Really, I'm Not Interested
by LadyVendetta
Summary: Evie, a music journalist, suffers multiple encounters with an incorrigible vampire. Chaos ensues.
1. The Business Party From Hell

Chapter 1: The Business Party from Hell

The only reason I even went to the party was because Ben begged me…and promised to pay for the next five midnight coffee sessions. I knew I was out of my element before we even stepped in the door. I avoided the industry for a reason; and the stares that followed my unsuccessful attempt at a subtle entrance (which involved hiding behind Ben at a strange angle) provided a more than convincing reminder. I probably could have tried harder than a t-shirt and jeans, but, much to Ben's chagrin, I wasn't here to impress.

Ben was here on business – he's an up and coming stylist. He's done a couple TV shows, more recently a few movies, one of which he almost won some award for (it was obscure - call me a horrible friend, but I just can't remember right now). His invitation had a plus one attached, so he dragged me along in his endless attempt to "help" me move up the Hollywood food chain. Bless him for trying; I'll be the first to say it – I'm a real piece of work when it comes to doing things I don't want to.

We mingled. Or rather, he mingled and I stood awkwardly holding my drink wishing I was somewhere else. What can I say, I'm a small time writer for a small time music magazine and I like it that way. All these people with their plastic smiles and personalities just get to me after a while. I'll never understand how Ben handles it. He was in the process of introducing me to another well known photographer or editor or something like that (I wasn't really listening) when a wave of discomfort rushed over us all and I felt a cold presence brush my arm. Holding said arm with a not so silent gasp, I looked up and who of all people should be standing there beside me grinning wickedly but the Vampire Lestat.

Ben trembled for a second, then recovered his A-game in record time and allowed himself to be introduced by the other man, who evidently was already acquainted with the newest music sensation. When it was my turn I watched as Lestat's eyes roved up and down my body, sizing me up in a very obvious way. I bristled like a cat, feeling an incredible desire to run and at the same time a paralyzing inability to do so. He stood there in all his rock star glory, black leather, lean and muscular, striking features, staring me down. But luckily, like Ben, I was able to regain my composure in time to shake hands with the tall, dark stranger and return a hesitant smile. However, with my senses intact again, I wanted to smack that self-important smirk right off his face. I guess Ben must have sensed my shift in mood because he quickly brought up the subject of me the music journalist (damn him…).

"A journalist, you say", Lestat mused in my direction, "Who do you write for?" That stupid smile was driving me crazy; I could swear he was baiting me.

"Just a small underground magazine", I returned tersely.

"Now, don't be modest Evie," Ben jumped in, "She's really a talented writer; she could write for anyone if she'd just get out there and try". He gave me one of his "play along, this is for your own good" looks. I scowled at him. My best friend is hawking me to a vampire, wonderful.

"Well Evie, you're in luck – I haven't granted any written interviews yet. Perhaps we could set something up."

The way he said my name made me shiver, and my first glimpse at fangs in such close proximity had me holding my breath. Still, I wasn't letting him intimidate me.

"That would be great, but I'm sorry, I only write for bands that need the publicity. I'm afraid you're too big for me," I said, trying to keep my contempt for his ego from seeping into my tone. I was struggling between the pulls of my own (admittedly stubborn) pride and his piercing gaze.

Ben looked like he was going to faint. The photographer/editor had already tired of us and made a quick exit after the introductions. Lestat just looked at me with amusement in his black eyes.

"You're sure? I'd let you ask me anything you wanted." His smile turned suggestive.

Ben made to elbow me in the side, but I held fast. "No, thank you, really, I'm sure you'll have no trouble finding someone to do just the interview you want. Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to powder my nose". I walked off before Ben could grab me and I could feel two pairs of eyes boring holes into my back as I made my way to the Ladies Room. Honestly, I wasn't sure whether to laugh or faint.

I took my time in the bathroom; I didn't even need to go, I just plopped myself down on a giant ottoman in the corner and watched all the fashionable ladies make their way in and out. Finally I decided it was getting a little weird, my sitting there, and I was feeling a little bad about leaving Ben out there by himself (granted, he could handle it, I was sure). I went out behind a small group of women, trying to stay out of view of, well, everyone. I hightailed it back to the bar for reinforcements in case there were any more uncomfortable encounters planned for the evening. And it was a good thing (or maybe bad, I left myself out in the open), because no sooner did I have a strong drink in my hand then I felt a familiar alarming presence making its way towards me. Lestat took the seat next to me and ordered something by making a swift movement with his hand towards the bartender. I could only guess what it was and I certainly wasn't going to ask. I sat there for a few moments wondering whether I could just get up and leave to go find Ben, but I spent too much time thinking because before I could take action Lestat was staring right at me.

"So, I'm too big for you?" he said patronizingly. I was beginning to wonder if he actually could smile without smirking, or showing a fang or two.

"That's right." I took a big gulp of my drink and did my best impression of that ridiculous grin.

"Too bad, I'm sure we would have got along just fine." The bartender handed him what looked like a glass of red wine.

"Uh huh, well I was just refreshing my drink. I should go find Ben now, it was nice meeting you." I stood quickly, almost spilling my drink in the process. Smooth, Evie, very smooth.

"If you change your mind we'll get in touch," was the last thing I heard him say before I got myself purposely lost in the crowd. Those last words…call me an idiot; they were both tantalizing and terrifying. And just how was he going to get in touch with me anyways? He didn't even know my full name, let alone the magazine I wrote for…


	2. Travel is Dangerous

Chapter 2: Travel is Dangerous

I spent the next two days apologizing to Ben for "embarrassing" him at the party; though we both knew that he wasn't embarrassed and I didn't mean it. I swear, Ben's one of my best friends, but he acts like my father – I sat through a half hour lecture on how I needed to start "playing the game" if I ever wanted to get anywhere. That's just the thing. I don't want to play any games. I like what I'm doing, and so what if it doesn't pay the big bucks! The only person I embarrassed at that party was me; and I certainly didn't give a shit.

We parted ways that night thinking the same thing – "my friend is nuts".

But this was the nature of our relationship. I laughed at him, he laughed at me; we were both jaded enough to take none of it seriously and so we got along perfectly. This is what I told Jane during her lunch hour the next week. She looked at me slyly and said, "You two were _made_ for each other…"

I laughed, "Right, too bad he's not into what I have to offer".

"Ohh," Jane sighed, disappointed. "Well every girl needs a gay best friend in her life. I could certainly use one right about now."

"Well, I could introduce you – you're definitely more his type than I am."

"You mean he would go shopping with me?"

"For hours on end." I smiled.

"What would you do then?" Jane smirked at my tired old jeans and t-shirt ensemble.

"Find the nearest coffee place and bury my nose in a book." I returned satisfactorily.

"I think I should meet this Ben guy, he could help me turn you into a lady!"

"Now why would you want to do that?"

"You're right," she chuckled and winced, "I sound like my mother!"

"Besides, ladies don't do what I do. Can you imagine me at CB or The Wall doing an interview in a dress? It's hard enough being a girl in this business!"

"Ahh men, who needs 'em anyways? So do you have an interview tonight?"

"Yah, new band out of Boston, I can't remember the name…something to do with automobiles."

"You may want to figure that out before you get there."

"Probably. Here's to hoping they're good; I hate writing bad reviews."

I hadn't completely forgotten my awkward repartee with Lestat, but it certainly wasn't at the forefront of my mind as I walked out onto the now empty street in front of The Wall. The show was a success; the band members of "Flying Automobiles" were both talented and articulate, a rare occurrence indeed. I walked towards my apartment feeling elated and refreshed. There's nothing like a good concert to rejuvenate the mind.

I was already planning my review in my head, going over my notes from the show in my little notebook. My feet knew their way home; I'd made the walk so many times. Unfortunately this time I was so absorbed in my thoughts that I failed to notice I was no longer alone. Behind me, someone made a throat-clearing cough.

I jumped. Who wouldn't?

Before I even turned around he was standing beside me with that awful smirk saying, "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to go out walking by yourself at night?"

I glared at him, annoyed and afraid. "My mother didn't believe in vampires."

He laughed; and for a split second I thought I saw something in his face that I still can't describe in words. The best I've been able to come up with is, well, humanity.

"Shouldn't you be in some mansion in California?" I was hiding my fear behind sarcasm.

"I'm on vacation…" He looked me up and down like he had at the party; I swear my whole body jolted to the point my knees almost buckled.

"That's funny, most people go to the Bahamas."

"I'm not 'most people'."

I wanted to say no shit Sherlock, but I held my tongue. I opted instead for "What do you want?"

"Nothing in particular, I was just out for a stroll and who should I stumble across but the little journalist who hates my music."

"I never said I hated your music, I said you were too big for me."

"And just how do you know that?" He asked with a more than suggestive smile.

I turned beet red at the implication; lucky it was dark. "You know what I meant." I shot back with my best no-nonsense tone and tried to avoid his eyes.

"Of course, of course. So then does that mean that you _do_ like my music?"

"It has its own appeal, I suppose." I wasn't giving him anything after the last comment.

"But still, you won't go for the exclusive interview with me. It's still yours if you want it."

"We've been over this. Thank you, but no."

"May I ask if there's anything more holding you back besides my popularity?" He stepped ahead and stopped right in front of me, blocking my path.

My mouth took on a mind of its own. "Yes, actually, there is. I don't trust you."

"Me?" He gazed down at me with mock innocence.

"Yes, you! I may not write for Rolling Stone but I'm not so far out of the industry that I don't hear things."

"Things? What things?"

"What happens to all those groupies, huh? People do file missing person reports on occasion."

He scowled for a second, but regained his smile just as quickly. "I am what I am. And besides, who am I to forego prey that comes to me so willing…" is all he said. But there was a suggestively malicious tinge creeping into that smile. I was horrified, but not as much as I thought I should be.

I sideswiped around him and started walking more quickly. My door was only another block down. He scoffed from behind me, "Surely you can't deny that everyone has to eat!"

I didn't even turn around, all my muscles were tense waiting for the attack to come.

It didn't. He appeared beside me again. "I apologize for my crudeness, I'm afraid I've become far too used to saying what I please."

He was apologizing to me! What in the bloody hell was going on?

I found myself saying, "That's alright," before I could even think. What was I doing? Fortunately, I didn't have to think anymore. The staircase to my apartment was just a few feet away.

"Well, this is me," I said, climbing the stairs as quickly as I could while trying my best to maintain whatever calm I still had.

"What, not going to invite me in?" He called from below.

"Do you think I'm crazy?" My key was in the lock and I was halfway in the door before I finished the sentence.

"Until next time then…"

I closed the door behind me, locked it, and collapsed onto my couch. My heart was beating so fast I thought it might tear right out of my chest. What did he mean next time? What did he want with me?


	3. Think

Chapter 3: Think

Over the next few days I forced myself to sit and assess the situation rationally. At first I couldn't get his face out of my mind; I'm still kicking myself for thinking like some love-struck teenager both times I've met him. He's a vampire for god's sake! This isn't a movie, it's real life. Vampires like Lestat don't just appear out of the shadows, sweep a girl off her feet and ride off into the sunset…or after the sunset, ugh, I don't know. He's a real live monster, I kept reminding myself. He's cold, calculating; he has no respect for human life. Not to mention he's rife with the ridiculous human traits ego and arrogance. In all likelihood he's just playing some twisted cat and mouse game with me. I'm just another meal for him.

After thinking about these things for a while my hatred was well renewed. I'd just stay in the next few nights – it was good I didn't have any other interviews this week. It was frustrating, though; feeling like a prisoner in my own house. Never in my life had I thought twice about going outside by myself after dark. Now…I suppose things never were going to be the same; even if I never did see him again.

Jane completely freaked out when I told her about my last encounter with the vampire. She fully agreed with my staying in, and even offered to come stay with me if I didn't want to be alone. I told her that was going a little over the top, considering she had a day job and if Lestat really did want to attack, two women in their mid-twenties sure as hell weren't going to stop him. Jane agreed after a little more persuasion, then suggested I sign up for self-defense classes. I didn't want to be the pessimist in this, but once again, I couldn't see how that would help me in fighting the undead. Sorry kids, I'm not Buffy and I never will be. I have a hard enough time tackling the ants that like to invade my kitchen every summer. The fighting instinct seems to have been lost on me; then again, I've never had the need for it before.

Ben, on the other hand, was fully intrigued with the whole ordeal. Being the hopeless romantic that he is, he couldn't get over the back-and-forth verbal jabs, sexual undertones, and Lestat's parting comments.

"You two are sooooooo going to do it," he gushed as we sat drinking coffee at our favorite café (during daylight hours, mind you).

"You are sooooooo completely insane," I returned.

"Oh please – the man is gorgeous and he's practically stalking you!"

"That's what I'm worried about, artard!"

"You don't think he'd actually…you know…" Ben made an ick face, "because that would really suck." He started laughing at his own hideous pun. I wasn't quite as amused, and not only because the joke was horrible beyond measure.

"It's nice to know you're so concerned for my safety."

"Come on, now," he said stifling the last few giggles with coughs, quite ineffectively. "You and I both know that he would never go after a public figure – his image depends entirely on the mystery of the vampire, not the actual implications."

"First of all, I wouldn't exactly call myself a public figure. And second of all, those are pretty heavy implications. How is it that I'm the only person that isn't mesmerized by this guy?"

"No going off on modern popular music now, I'm not in the mood for another lecture on the so-called 'deterioration of modern culture' little miss I-know-music." He shot me an annoyed glance. Besides, you're a smart girl – you can handle yourself! And from the way you've been talking about him for the past half-hour, he's never going to get anywhere near you. You'd probably scratch his eyes out."

"Right." But it was a quiet assurance; I had no idea what was going to happen next and that bothered me. Righteous anger wasn't going to save me here.

My worries were unfounded though, or so it seemed anyway. After spending the next five nights in with no problems (not that there should have been any, seeing as I hadn't invited him in and never would) I had to get out. A week went by with no one sneaking up behind me. I did another night interview with no problems to speak of. I started letting my guard down a little; though not entirely.

Still, I can't say I wasn't surprised when he showed up again, this time at the café. It had been almost three weeks since I'd seen him last, there was a hope that had begun to grow in the back of my mind that he'd forgotten about me.

Nope.

I was hunched over my laptop trying to finish a story for an 11 am deadline tomorrow. It was edging on midnight and I still had quotes to insert and a conclusion to pull out of my ass. I'd already been there typing away for the last three hours. Damn me and my perfectionism. And tendency towards procrastination.

I was trying to weave a quote from Pop the Bubble's bassist into the body of the mass of text I'd accrued when I heard the chair opposite me being pulled out and it's new inhabitant say, "Hello again, Evie."

I decided I wasn't looking up. I wasn't acknowledging his presence. I was just going to keep typing and maybe he would get tired and go away…

"What, you won't even look at me now? I don't think I've ever offended someone so easily."

Still looking down; don't engage Evie, if you do it's all over.

"Sorry it's been a while, the life of a musician is chaotic at best. I spent the last two weeks in Japan – if you were interested."

His voice…I could feel my eyes inching upwards above the screen. Oh, it was him alright, seated across from me, completely relaxed, looking as though the whole world belonged to him. I was right (idiot!); I looked into those eyes and all thoughts of quotes and deadlines were wiped clean from my mind.

No. I'd been preparing myself for this. I could handle this. I wasn't fond of games, as you well know, but if I was going to be forced into this one, I wasn't going down without a fight. Scratch that, I wasn't going down period.

"Who knows, it could be fun," he smirked.

"What did you say?"

"I'm not half bad, or so I've been told," he said satisfactorily.

It finally dawned on me what he was implying. "Oh my god! You sick freak, get out of my head!" The statement started hysterically, but shot down to just above a whisper as I noticed other patrons staring.

The bastard laughed.

"You, my dear, are a little high strung."

"Lestat, _go away_," I practically growled at him.

He simply shifted forward in his chair, resting his elbows on the table.

"Now why would I do that, I've only just arrived."

"I mean it," I was fumbling now; "I have a deadline tomorrow and I really don't have time for this tonight."

My tone must have been meaner than I thought because he actually seemed offended.

"Sorry to bother you then," he said rather haughtily, "I didn't realize I was causing you such displeasure." His face had turned hard, and he began to stand.

I knew I was going to regret this. "No, I'm sorry, I'm just really stressed right now – I shouldn't have been so rude to you." Vampire or no, I was raised better than that.

Well that revived the self-important smile instantly. But once again, maybe my eyes were playing with me, it seemed a little tempered. He sat back down and asked what the deadline was for. A vaguely civilized conversation ensued. Once again it turned to me doing his interview.

I couldn't help it, I had to ask. "Why is it you are so set on me doing your interview? Have you ever even read anything I've written?"

"What does that matter? You're published are you not?"

"Of course it matters! For all you know I could be some hack with a half-baked blog and one printed article in a magazine only three people read!"

"Why would I think that? If I recall correctly, your friend said you were a wonderful writer."

"That's not the point – what if I chose to write a horrible review simply out of spite?"

"You wouldn't do that," he said with a matter-of-fact tone.

"How do you know?"

"I just know," he smiled again.

This is ridiculous, I thought. Then I remembered he could read my mind and so turned back to my tried and true excuse. I began to pack up my things. It was half past one – we'd been talking for over an hour. Not exactly the best conversation of my life, but I hadn't felt the need to launch a fist at his face at any point. If that wasn't progress…

When I stood to leave he followed me out the door. I eyed him warily; he definitely hadn't crossed the barrier to my good side yet. "Well it was nice talking to you; good luck with everything." I started down the sidewalk at a quick pace.

"You don't think I'd let you walk home alone at this time of night? There are bad things that come out at night."

No kidding.

"I heard that."

God dammit.

"That too."

"Fine, Lestat, but my apartment is just around the corner – it's entirely unnecessary." I was reaching the point of sheer exasperation.

"That's beside the point; it would be very ungentlemanly of me to let you go off on your own".

"Oh, so you're a gentleman now". There was no hiding the sarcasm in that statement.

"Of course!" He dove into a swift yet elegant bow.

I suppressed the urge to scream in frustration (and laugh…) and kept walking.

"See," I said only a few minutes later, "Home. Good night." I started up the stairs, but turned around again quickly, "And no, I'm not inviting you in, so don't bother asking."

"I wouldn't dare," he laughed, and gave that stupid little bow again. Alright, so it wasn't _entirely_ stupid. It was charming. But only a little, and not in a romantic way.

I made sure I was in the door before he had a chance to say anything else.


	4. Kiss and Control

Chapter 4: Kiss and Control

Ok, I'll admit it. He'd broken the barrier a little bit. Alright, more than a little bit. But once again my practical (ugh…cynical) brain wouldn't just let things be.

So we'd had a conversation. So what. That didn't mean anything. I couldn't let him get into my head. For all I know, all of this was planned the moment he met me. He was bored with Hollywood – I was anti-Hollywood; who could ask for a better diversion. A diversion that could eventually be consumed once she got boring…

It made sense anyways, far more than the opposite explanation. No, as far as I was concerned he was laying down the trap and I wasn't going to walk into it blindly. I just had to mind my own business and it would all go away. Did I mention I live in a fantasy world?

Ben was completely useless when it came to asking for help. He thought all this was brilliant; I was being courted by a mysterious vampire; it was so romantic, blah, blah, blah. I couldn't talk any sense into him. He was more interested in being updated as soon as something new happened than in what that something new might be. He still insisted that I was in no danger. I had to hang up the phone when he started talking makeovers.

Luckily, Jane had her feet on the ground. She thought it was a smart idea to keep my wits about me and not let this go any farther than I could control. Still, it seemed as though she was settled too far on the other side of the spectrum. She wanted me to start staying in every night I could and take someone with me (preferably someone in very good shape) whenever I had to go out after dark. I spent the rest of that conversation trying to convince her that everything was going to be ok.

So here I was caught in the middle; torn between the romantic and the uber-realist. Not that it really mattered; another two weeks had passed with no Lestat in sight. This was probably for the best, though; my mind remained closer to the reality of things. It was getting tiring, wondering whether he was going to show up again at random. Still, it kept my attitude towards him irritated, which I knew was a good thing. At this rate there was no way he'd ever catch me with my guard down, or so I hoped.

Another week went by; I was returning to a state where I didn't feel like looking back over my shoulder every other minute on my walks home. Sadly, my state of mind wasn't meant to regain its natural calm. At least I wasn't alone this time. It was Friday night and Jane and I were celebrating the completion of her latest project. Her client was more than pleased with the results so she'd received a special bonus; which we were now draining down our throats in one of the fancier bars downtown. I even sprang for a nicer shirt and slacks, which made her laugh when the cab stopped in front of my apartment.

"One word out of you and I'm going right back upstairs to change." I quipped with a threatening gesture.

"No! I never get to see you like this!" She calmed down immediately and pulled me into the cab, "You look wonderful!"

"Right, whatever." I had to keep up appearances, but I was glad to see her happy. She'd been so stressed lately between her work and my problems. I pretended not to see her stifling the continued laughter behind her hand. But then I couldn't resist; I punched her in the shoulder.

"Alright, alright," she said between the laughs she was no longer attempting to hide, "It's just strange seeing you like this, and you have the most uncomfortable look on your face. One would think you were being tortured!"

"Well maybe I am!" I had to laugh too…

We'd found a booth near the back where we could just enjoy the ambiance and the music without drowning in it. Jane was in the middle of telling me about another exasperating meeting with the "incompetents" (the two managers who outranked her) when she suddenly stiffened, her eyes widening as her mouth closed mid-sentence. I made to ask her what was wrong, but I wasn't given a chance. A voice beside me eloquently drawled, "May I join you ladies?"

Of course it was him. It was always him. I should have known. Why did he always feel the need to sneak up on me? Damn vampires…

He sat down next to me before either of us had a chance to answer. I guess the question had been rhetorical. I shifted my body as far towards the wall as I possibly could, maximizing the distance between us. Thankfully, he actually respected my personal space and didn't follow.

After a more than awkward introduction, Lestat eased into a conversation with Jane, ignoring me completely. Not that I cared, it's just that Jane was visibly uncomfortable – she kept looking at me like she expected me to take control of the situation and get him the hell away from us. I just looked back helplessly, trying to comfort her with my eyes. Finally a pause from both gave me a chance to cut in, "Lestat, that's enough."

He turned to me, the look on his face edging on surprise and returning to his characteristic cold mask just as quickly. His eyes moved down, and I remembered that the shirt I was wearing was a little low cut. He smiled his toothy smile and said, "I'm sorry, are we jealous at the lack of attention?"

It was like dealing with a middle-schooler who hadn't yet figured out the basics of normal social discourse. "That's not what I meant and you know it – and I'm up here thank you very much!"

He sighed, which was a strange sight indeed. Somewhere in my subconscious I felt more than just an indication that he was giving up this particular game; there was a sort of underlying weariness…

Jane was inching towards the outside edge of her seat giving me a "we're getting the out of here _now_" look. That was my cue. "Well, it's getting late – we should be going, I'm sure you have more important matters to attend to anyways". Not as biting as it could have been, but that sigh had pulled me away from my senses momentarily.

"Certainly you're not thinking of walking this time?" He was back, god dammit.

Jane was no longer speaking, it was up to me. "Of course not, we're taking a cab."

I should have kept my mouth shut.

"Would you mind sharing it with me, I'm afraid I'm a little out of my element in this part of town."

Of course he would be. We _all_ knew that was bullshit. "I sure a man such as yourself can handle it; we're probably not even going in your direction." Why couldn't I be more forceful? I should have just flat out said no.

"Of course I can, but as we discussed before," he winked at me; I blushed madly, "A gentleman never allows ladies such as yourselves to go off on their own into the mad night."

"Right."

Jane was horrified. Thinking on my feet was definitely not my forte, so I just started walking towards the exit. A cab was already waiting by the curb; Jane was in the door like a flash and madly waving for me to follow. I would have, except that voice behind me wondered out loud whether my answer had been a yes or a no.

Don't ask me how; I blame my inability to be outright mean – even when it's for my own good. I ended up squashed between Jane and Lestat in the back of the cab. I was stiff as a board; nothing was getting me to look in his direction. At least Jane was still thinking clearly, she told the cabbie to drop me off first. Or maybe she just wanted to get away from Lestat as quickly as possible. When it comes to survival, we all consider ourselves first. But before I exited the cab she grabbed my arm and frantically whispered in my ear, "Call me in 20 minutes or I'm calling the police". I did my best to reassure her quietly and turned towards the door.

Lestat was waiting, hand outstretched, to help me out of the cab. I didn't take it. But still he stood there, nonplussed. Jane gave the cabbie the next address and took off down the street, leaving me alone with the last person I wanted to be left alone with. Well, at least now we knew who was the braver one in this friendship. I turned straight for the stairs, only to be stopped yet again.

"I hope I didn't ruin your evening."

Now_that _I wasn't expecting; he had to be messing with me.

"Of course not, we were about finished when you arrived anyways. Good night."

"Always so quick to leave…" his voice oozed charm and bad intentions.

"Good night, Lestat" I said with a tone of finality, and closed the door behind me. I entered my own door, locked it behind me, and started flicking on lights in the kitchen. My apartment was set up such that the kitchen was the first room you entered, a sort of den opening up in front of it with a large bay window facing the street; my bedroom door was off to the left. My den consisted of a large couch and coffee table – both facing the window. My stereo was set up along the right wall. As usual my coffee table was strewn with papers, books, notebooks, and my open laptop. Some people have actual offices, I have my coffee table. I switched on the lamp next to the couch and just about fainted. Lestat was leaning against my window pane poring over my latest short story – which should have been sitting on my now bare laptop.

"How did you get in here…you can't be in here…I…I…never invited you!"

He grinned wickedly as he had the first time we met. "Oh, I suppose I forgot to mention that that rule is just a myth…must have slipped my mind."

Now what was I going to do. The words "shit, shit, shit" flowed through my mind like ticker tape. But the fact that my story was in his hands quickly drew me back to reality. "Put that down! You have no right to read my private work!"

"You know, it's not half bad, have you thought of publishing it?"

"Don't be ridiculous, it's private, as in my eyes only. Put it back right now!" I was getting a little hysterical. When it came to my fiction I was overly protective, it was just for my pleasure, it would never leave this room – I was too self-conscious.

"No," his cat-like grin was getting larger, if that was even possible, "I think I'll take it to a publisher myself."

"Don't you dare! Give them to me, now!" My instincts had taken over; I was running at him trying to grab the packet of papers. But he was too tall for me; he easily held them out of my reach. "This isn't funny!" I screamed, desperately trying to reach my precious work.

"You're the one being ridiculous; this is good and I'm going to get it published!" He was enjoying this far too much. I did the first thing that came into my head – I punched him in the stomach as hard as I could. I must have surprised him, because he actually flinched and let the arm holding my work drop. I grabbed it and ran behind the couch.

"I must say, you are anything but predictable, dear Evie." His grin was back. I tried to put more space between us, but he bridged it in a few simple steps. Clutching my work behind my back I found myself rounding the couch back towards the coffee table. I shoved the story under my laptop – like that was going to stop him, but give me a break, I was freaking out at this point. But he had forgotten all about the work. He had me backed into the wall before I had time to register what was happening. All I could do was stand there like a deer in headlights, I felt completely paralyzed. He was so close; I could feel the coldness of his body contrasting with my natural (living) warmth. He looked down at me, "You aren't frightened, are you Evie?"

"No…" I managed to gasp.

"Your heart is beating so fast…I believe it speaks otherwise."

"That's enough, Lestat, stop." I made to push him away, but he instantly had my wrists above my head. I was stuck. This was it. His eyes were boring into me; I couldn't read them at all. He moved even closer, pressing his body against mine. I squeaked and fought against his iron grip. The he did the last thing I ever would have expected. He kissed me. Hard at first; his lips crushed against mind. My fighting instinct awakened and I continued to struggle. But then his kiss turned soft…I was melting, unwillingly. He caressed my tongue with his and pressed himself harder against me. That woke me up. But before I could resume my struggling he had disappeared. I let myself slip down to the floor, confused, humiliated, angry, breathless. I didn't know what to feel. I managed to stand again, looking around warily to make sure he was truly gone. Then I collapsed on the couch, all the stress of the evening bearing down on me. I was asleep in an instant.

Unfortunately, through all the scuffle and terror, I hadn't noticed the disappearance of another story that had been laying there with the rest only moments ago…


	5. Under Pressure

Chapter 5: Under Pressure

Rays of sunlight sweeping in through the slats of my blinds woke me early the next morning. I lay there for a moment, trying to find my bearings. Then the memory of the events of the previous night hit me like a truck and I shot up off the couch. It must have been a dream. It couldn't have happened… But I was wearing the same clothes; my story was sticking out from under my laptop, papers scrunched from rough handling; my phone was blinking madly. Jane had left five messages, the last two bordered on hysterical. I looked at the clock on my microwave. It was only 7:30 and we had left the bar at what, one, two AM? My mind was reeling. I wanted a shower, a real night's rest, and a hole to hide in. Oh god, what if Jane really had called the police?

I picked up the phone and hit redial. The phone barely made it through half a ring when a panic-stricken voice broke over the line saying, "Evie? Is that you? Are you alright?"

"Yah, I'm fine…really, you didn't call the police did you?"

"No," she paused as if ashamed, "I wanted to when you didn't pick up the phone, but then I figured who would believe me?"

"Jane – it's ok! It's not like they would have been able to help anyways!"

"I was so scared…are you sure you're alright? What happened?"

Now it was my turn to pause. "Can we talk about it later? I need a shower and some more sleep. I'm so sorry I didn't call you last night."

"Don't worry about it, but we are talking later today."

There was no arguing with that tone. "Later, right, I'll call you."

I hung up and slumped back down on the couch. I didn't need this. Any of it. But then, who would? So now he could get in and out of my apartment as he pleased. Just peachy. I was no longer safe in my own home. So much for staying in at nights to avoid him. My mind was so caught up with the trespassing that the kiss barely registered on the freak-out scale. So I did what I always do when I'm stressed. I turned my stereo up as loud as it could go, neighbors be damned, and I got in the shower.

I knew there was no point in attempting more sleep. I'd never be able to get my mind to shut up long enough for me to slip out of consciousness again. I finished getting dressed and sat back down on the couch. I fished my latest story out from under my laptop and smoothed the pages as best I could. Leaving my work out like this wouldn't be possible anymore. Now I was angry. The words "stupid bastard" formed in my mind; it was good, being angry meant not being as afraid. He could kiss my ass; I'd be ready for him if he thought he was just going to show up in my home again invading my space, my privacy…my personal bubble. I began to wish he was there in front of me right now – I'd show him. I wondered how one went about getting a stake. Then again, dispatching of an international superstar (vampire or no) was not going to make me very popular. I couldn't do this by myself. I threw all my papers together in a messy pile on the table and headed for Jane's.

Jane looked like a bigger wreck than I did. I don't think she had slept at all last night. I made tea and we sat on her living room floor like we used to back in college. When I told her what happened she nearly dropped her cup.

"He did WHAT?"

"You heard me, I'm not repeating it."

"I can't believe it."

I wasn't sure whether to be offended or agree. Ok, so I hadn't been on a date in a while, but was it really that hard to believe that someone would want to kiss me? Fleeting thoughts, erased when I returned to rationality. All that was beside the point; there were more pressing matters at hand.

Two cups of tea and an hour later. "Evie, you and I both know that you can't," Jane paused uncomfortably looking for the right words, "you know…get rid of him…"

All I could do was sigh.

"What about a restraining order?" she offered hopefully.

"Come on, Jane, honestly."

"Yah, you're right."

"Ugh…" I put my head in my hands, "What am I going to do?"

"I don't know, Evie, I wish I could help."

"Well enough of this, " I stood up taking both our cups to the sink, "I guess I should get busy finding a desk. One with drawers that lock."

Jane gave me a reassuring look; "At least you have your priorities in order."

"Ha, ha."


	6. How Many More Times

Chapter 6: How Many More Times

It occurred to me as I left Jane's that even a locked drawer would no longer make a difference; it wouldn't stop Lestat if he wanted in. A locked door sure as hell hadn't done anything. At least the venting session had left me feeling a little lighter. So there was no getting rid of him; I was just going to have to hope that he would lose interest, among other things. I shouldn't have been taking this all so seriously anyways, I mean, he showed up at random for a few hours at a time. I'd never seen him two days in a row, though I was beginning to notice a pattern. Somewhere along the lines of "peace" for three to five weeks, then one chaotic rendezvous, over and over again. Not that I was keeping track, or ever would for that matter. One thing I did know; Ben was never going to hear a word of this…

Once again I settled back in to my old routine. My coffee table remained my office, not only because I wasn't going to let Lestat see (should he ever show up again) that he had made me alter the way I did things but because I figured this was the first step to getting over my self-consciousness. I did want to try publishing one of my short stories, but the fear of rejection was too much. It's one thing to have a band send you angry messages because they didn't like your review; here I'd be putting myself under scrutiny. I was the one who did the scrutinizing, I wasn't sure I could handle taking what I sometimes had to give.

The three-week marker had passed. I was getting nervous again, and this time it was getting bad. I'd wake up in the middle of the night with a cold sweat thinking he was lurking in the corner waiting to sink his teeth into my neck as soon as I closed my eyes again. But another week passed, and another. A tiny hope began to flicker in the back of my mind that I was in the clear. Before I knew it six weeks had passed with no Lestat in sight – the tiny hope was growing. Still, the longer he stayed away the clearer his face became in my memory. Distance makes the heart grow fonder; whoever said that had obviously never met a vampire. Either way, I really wanted to give him (I'm sure it was a him) a swift kick in the pants. I didn't miss him; honestly, what was there to miss? I began to have these random momentary urges to start banging my head against the wall…"get out, get out, get out". Was this some new form of torture for him? If he was still out there, I was damn sure he was enjoying this – the bastard.

Now seven weeks had passed. I wasn't thinking about him. Period. Of course things had changed; I don't think I'd ever be able to look at people the same way again, but I never had been the kind of person who hands out their trust easily. I was working on another story, for me, not the magazine on my laptop. It was Wednesday evening, everyone I knew was busy with something, so it was the perfect time to relax in the solitude of my den and put some words on paper. My buzzer rang, indicating that someone was calling me from downstairs. I walked to the call box wondering who could possibly be looking for me now. Most everyone was either out of town or swamped with work. I was hoping it was Jane coming to suggest a means of procrastination for us both; namely coffee and conversation.

I hit the call button hard and half-shouted "hello?" into the speaker. This thing was a little old; it needed a certain touch to work.

"Miss me?"

My whole body froze. No, no, no…it had been too long, he'd forgotten about me!

"I see you're speechless, so I'll do the talking. We're going to dinner. Now. Go get ready, I'll be waiting."

It took a second for all that to sink in. Dinner? With him? Was he kidding? My mouth finally breached it's temporary paralysis, "Lestat, I'm sort of in the middle of something, you can't just drop in on people like this…"

"That something wouldn't be a person, would it?"

"No…and what difference would that make. I don't have time tonight."

"I'm giving you five minutes and then I'm coming up."

"Lestat, this isn't a game, I've got work to finish."

"Finish it later, we're going to dinner. You're down to four minutes."

Was this really happening? Who the hell does he think he is?

"I'm not accepting arguments, Evie, and I don't think you want me to come up there."

"Lestat…"

"Three minutes."

"ARRGH, FINE!" I hit the end button as hard as I could and punched the wall with my other hand. I could see that revolting smirk starting to form on his face all the way up here. Damn him. Well, I certainly wasn't going to make this easy for him. I pulled my hair into a loose ponytail and put on the grubbiest outfit I could find. I figured the jeans and extra-large t-shirt from the show the night before would do. They both reeked of smoke and alcohol. I pulled one of my giant hooded sweatshirts over all that; I was showing the least amount of skin possible. I grabbed my bag and headed down to the stairway. This was not going to be fun.

As soon as I stepped out the door Lestat started to laugh. I wasn't starting any conversation so I just glared.

"I don't think I've ever met anyone so bent on avoiding me!"

The thought flashed through my mind before I could stop it, "Obviously you haven't met a lot of people."

"Oh, now that's just hurtful Evie," he mock-frowned. "Long day?" He looked me up and down as usual.

"Of course." My frown was most definitely real.

"Well, I was thinking we would go somewhere nice, but I suppose we could try the more bohemian side of town instead."

If he thought he could shame me into changing he was sorely mistaken. "Fine," I said, starting in that direction, "let's get this over with."


	7. What You Say

Chapter 7: What You Say

With my bag over my shoulder and my clenched hands shoved down deep into the pockets of my sweatshirt I let my feet carry me in the familiar direction of our own bohemian central, Fortune Petite. It was the part of town my mother would have called "shabby", but to me it was home. Lost in thoughts like these, I almost forgot who it was accompanying me on this little trip.

"Well aren't we in a hurry."

"Maybe I am."

"What, not happy to see me?"

"Have I ever given any indication that I was happy to see you on any occasion?"

"Ouch," he feigned a blow to the stomach, "such harsh words from someone who's been offered an invitation to dinner."

"You didn't invite me – you threatened me."

"Threatened, persuaded, however you want to call it…now," he said, perusing the new surroundings, "where would you like to go?"

"Home."

"Well, yes, I'm sure we can do that later," I swear he was grinning so widely I could see every tooth in his mouth.

"Hilarious." I began to feel completely naked under his gaze so I walked into the first restaurant I saw; a burrito place. One of my favorites actually, and here I was ruining it for myself by bringing _him_ here. I figured he wouldn't be ordering, but he began to skim through the menu as soon as we were seated. At least the restaurant was almost completely packed; call me naïve, but I still found security in numbers.

Lestat was first to break the silence, "Order whatever you like".

I took a hard look at him. "Why are you doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"You know what I mean."

"I'm sure that I don't." He smiled again. My hands were becoming fists under the table.

"Ugh. Never mind." The waitress had just stepped up to our table. I immediately ordered the largest (and most expensive) drink on the menu, which I then began to regret when the realization struck me that if I were to get drunk things would only get worse. Lestat asked for nothing but a glass.

As far as conversation was concerned, I was finished. Lestat didn't need me to have a conversation anyways. So we sat there, waiting. The palpable silence coming from our table was like a black hole, drawing in the noise of all the other restaurant patrons. No problem for me; I was perfectly happy sipping my giant margarita staring at the "authentic" Mexican art lining the walls.

Lestat cleared his throat. "Here's an idea. Let's start this over again."

"Start what over again?"

"I didn't bring you here to stare at the walls."

"You didn't?" I gave him my best sarcastic smile.

"No, I didn't." He reciprocated the gesture. Needless to say his was much better than mine. "Since you've been so obliging in accompanying me to dinner, I'll do something for you."

"And what would that be?" Skepticism was leaking from my mouth.

"You ask me a question, anything you want, and I'll answer it." His eyes flickered with intrigue.

"Anything?"

He leaned forward and crossed his arms on the table. "Anything."

"And you'll answer me truthfully?"

"Of course!" He had the gall to look offended.

"Alright, let me think for a second." I can't lie; he'd definitely aroused my interest - it was the damn journalist in me, always jumping at the chance to question like some ridiculous Pavlovian dog. The thought crossed my mind to ask him about the kiss we'd shared at our last meeting, but I dropped it quickly, hoping Lestat was minding his own business in his own head. Then it hit me, the perfect question. Granted, it would only work if he answered with complete honesty (like that was going to happen), but it was worth a shot.

"I've got it." I said, trying to restrain the excitement in my voice.

"Well then, ask away."

"I want to know what is true and what is not."

"I'm afraid you'll have to clarify that a little," he said with a somewhat startled look.

"About vampires – all the folklore - crosses, garlic, mirrors, whatever – what's true and what isn't."

"This wouldn't have anything to do with my reading your little story, now would it?" He let the corners of his mouth curl up just enough for me to see his fangs.

"No, I'd say it has more to do with the trespassing." I said point-blank.

"I must say Evie, that is the question of a true journalist!"

"And _that_ is the answer of a true politician," I threw back at him.

"Now wait a minute," he was faking offense again, "you haven't even given me a chance!"

"Fine. Go."

"Well as you've experienced firsthand," he paused to grin at his own little victory, "we don't need to be invited anywhere – we can move as we please."

"Uh huh." I was hardly amused.

"Crosses are a no, surely your musical experience has shown you that my fans love to regale themselves with all sorts of imitations…obviously that would negate holy water as well. I certainly don't care for garlic, but it has yet to do me any bodily harm." He paused for a second, thinking I suppose. "A stake through the heart and chopping off my head won't do much either."

There went all my hopes. Not that I actually could have ever actually _done _anything like that.

"The lack of reflection is true, but then we hardly need to see ourselves in a mirror to know we are perfect in every way." This idiotic statement was accompanied by a flourish of the hand. I should have expected that.

"Still," he continued, "obviously we show up on camera, or I wouldn't be able to shoot videos so well."

"Obviously." What was I thinking, giving him an excuse to talk about himself. "And daylight?"

"Ever seen me during the day?" Patronizing bastard… "Now, perhaps you'll permit me to ask you a question?"

"I make no promises."

"I'm glad we're on equal footing here." He stopped me before I could make a retort, "What do you fear the most?"

Like hell I was going to tell him that!

"Vampires," I said, and started to get up to leave. I actually made it out of the restaurant and partway down the street.

"Remind me never to ask you on a date."

"No worries there."

I thought he would make another smart remark, but instead he stiffened and looked around. I started to ask what was wrong but he put his hand over my mouth momentarily, listening. Then he grabbed my other hand, giving me look that said now was not the time nor the place, and started half leading me back towards my apartment. I was almost jogging trying to keep up his pace. When we reached my apartment building he looked around again, as though he suspected we were being followed. Then he swiftly kissed me on the cheek and gave me gentle but urgent nudge up the stairs.

This time when I collapsed onto my couch it was only confusion that clouded my mind. What could possibly be so bad that it would have a vampire scared?


	8. Who Would've Thought

Chapter 8: Who Would've Thought

Ben could be a real drama queen when he felt like he was being neglected. It had been a while since we last spoke. I couldn't take the incessant questioning about you-know-who, which was of course unavoidable with him - so he was a little accurate (ok, more than a little) when he accused me of purposely avoiding him over the phone a few days later.

I'd never wanted to talk about my life less at the moment, but I could put off the inevitable conversation no longer. Besides, maybe Ben would shed some new light on the situation and make me feel a little less…helpless. Never mind the fact that we were good friends and it was downright cruel of me to deny him the precious gossip he'd been waiting so patiently for. He was going to absolutely love what had transpired since we'd last seen each other; he still didn't know about the (now multiple) kisses. We made plans for lunch; he made me promise that I wouldn't leave out a single detail before I was able to finally hang up.

As I walked down the busy street away from my apartment I couldn't help but start thinking about what had happened with Lestat. My thoughts had been straying towards him much more than I was comfortable with lately. The action of placing his hand gently but firmly over my mouth, the same not quite forceful shove up my building stairs without any suggestive comments about following me in, and of course the fact that he didn't after all; I felt like there was something there that I just couldn't put my finger on. It was so unlike everything I'd experienced with him thus far. But that was small change when compared to this new unknown monster that had even Lestat, self-proclaimed master of all fear, looking over his shoulder. I was about to cross the street when it hit me. I stopped right in my tracks, causing the businesswoman behind me to walk right into my back and knock me off the curb. I muttered a quick, "Excuse me," and started to walk again – faster now with my new revelation. It wasn't huge, but it was something.

Ben could tell I'd been hit with some new brainwave before I even sat down. He didn't even give me a chance to order a drink. "Alright you – spill!"

I did my best to explain the past couple months to him, though it was difficult seeing as he found it impossible not to interrupt me every other sentence with an exaggerated "Oh!" or "You're kidding!". I swear, the boy practically swooned when I got through the first kiss.

"What did I tell you!" he declared far too emphatically.

"Oh, don't give me that – this is all nothing and you know it."

"Girl, you're kidding yourself if you really think that."

I'm pretty sure my face got a little redder, which of course did not go unnoticed by Ben. "See! Ha! I knew it!"

"You don't know anything!" With a special emphasis on the _anything_; but he had me squirming nonetheless.

He turned the conversation back to the final night in my repertoire. "You do realize the implication there, now don't you?" He looked at me with a sardonic smile.

"I did have an idea." I sat there praying that my little epiphany had only been apparent to me.

"I'm waiting – and you will say it out loud before you leave this table." He made a grab at my bag and reached it before I could. With said hostage in his lap he gave me a look that said, "Go on…". I considered telling him he was beginning to remind me of a certain someone, but I figured that it would only boost his ego to a more unbearable level. The whole world would suffer.

"Still waiting."

I just sat there, lips pursed.

"Alright," he sighed, "I'll get you started. Now, when Lestat sensed danger what did he do?"

"You know damn well what he did."

"Okay…refresh my memory and then analyze the implications little miss smarty pants."

"He took me back to my apartment. Nothing said, nothing meant." I stuck my tongue out at him.

"We both know that's not true." He leaned back in his chair and stroked his chin in what I assumed he thought was a scholarly way, "I'm sure we can agree that Lestat is not the type to go running from danger. Obviously there was something keeping him from acting on his true instinct." He gave me a significant look, "_Now, vat sort of variable vould cause ze eqvation to be altered in zis vay_…?"

"Alright, drop the accent or I'm leaving, bag or no."

"Come on, Evie – you know exactly what he was doing. Just say it!"

"Fine!" I still paused awkwardly, trying to mentally prepare myself for what was going to come out of my mouth next. "He was protecting me."

"And the girl finally gets it!" Ben tossed my bag to me.

"Funny, very funny – but it still doesn't mean shit."

"Of course it does! What have you gone daft? The heartless monster went out of his way to protect the helpless beauty!"

"I wouldn't use either of those words to describe myself, thank you." I fished my half of the check out of my bag.

"Your own low self-esteem aside, you can't deny this – it's plain as day and you know it."

"Whatever Ben," I said tiredly, "Call me later, ok?" I kissed him on the cheek and left the restaurant.

Alright, so Ben had hit the nail right on the head. But while all this sounded strange and exciting in theory (at least to him), it was downright scary in practice. My brain simply couldn't wrap itself around the concept; it wasn't logical, it wasn't realistic, the only thing it could possibly be was foolish! But none of this thought grappling was going to get me anywhere. I was just going to have to wait until he showed up again…


	9. Something is Wrong

Chapter 9: Something Is Wrong

My conversation with Ben gave me a lot to think about over the next few weeks; too much to think about if you ask me. I was not ready to accept that Lestat might…you know…have a _thing_ for me. I still couldn't get over the sinking feeling at the pit of my stomach that this was still just a twisted cat and mouse game. He had me caught between his clawed paws and now he was just batting me from one to another before he decided it was a good time to swallow me whole; whatever that might mean. And then of course there was the new monster that obviously was not to be taken lightly…

Lestat showed up a couple more times, according to his previous schedule – keeping whatever self-imposed wait period between meetings he'd held since we met with only small variations. Nothing especially startling or exciting occurred, just the same old random arrivals leading to my irritation, which then fed his self-importance, resulting in the usual pseudo-sarcastic banter with very obvious sexual undertones (which in a way I suppose I was beginning to enjoy…but only a little), and finishing with me sitting on my couch wondering what the hell was going to happen next. Alright, so I had smiled genuinely on more than one occasion (and no, Ben was never going to hear about it). Still, something in me couldn't let go. It was really starting to stress me out – this clash within between the part of myself that was beginning to believe there was something human in that cold body and the part that kept jumping up and down screaming, "Are you insane?". I could never completely relax when he was around; I was always on the edge of my seat – and not in a way that I would have liked.

It had been a week since he'd last "surprised" me, so I wasn't feeling particularly paranoid. It was a sunny afternoon; I'd finished my most recent article well before deadline; I was excited about interviewing another band tonight; I was almost serene when I grabbed my mail out of the box across from my door and returned to my apartment to flop back down on the couch and bask in the warm sunlight that filled the room.

Thus I was caught completely unawares by the letter at the bottom of the stack.

The return address said it came from Dawkins' Literary Magazine. I tore it open in utter confusion. I hadn't sent anything to Dawkins'; it was a national magazine, way out of my league; I hadn't even tried publishing anything locally yet. The letter was signed by one of the editors, in actual blue ink. It said that they loved my story, "Turn Off That Damned Idiot Box", and wanted to publish it in their upcoming issue. It even asked that I send some more of my work for review. I dropped the letter and came the closest I ever have to fainting; I felt all the blood rush to my head and my eyes start to roll… I put my head in my hands and leaned over, staring at the floor. This made no sense whatsoever, that story had been sitting on the corner of my coffee table for almost a year now, I was sure of it! I grabbed that stack of papers and started ripping through them madly, needless to say, when I got to the bottom I hadn't found it.

Then it hit me.

He couldn't have.

I was going to kill him.


	10. Smile

Chapter 10: Smile

The shock stayed with me for a while.

It took at least an hour for me to recognize the truly incredible side of the situation. I was going to be published; and not just published - my story was going to be in one of the leading literary magazines nationwide. Still, while all this was starting to sink in and an almost suffocating exhilaration began to fill my chest, my anger at Lestat did not wane. The fact remained that he'd invaded my privacy – doubly so this time. So I'd calmed down a little; I wasn't going to kill him (like I _could_ anyways), but I sure as hell was going to give him a piece of my mind the next time I saw him. I wanted him to admit that he had done it, and not simply by my asking him to. I began to wonder how one went about tricking a vampire. At least I knew there was ample time to plan.

With these thoughts in mind I prepared for the show at The Wall. Ideas of how to get him to confess without knowing it swam through my head as I walked down the street, but each one seemed more ridiculous than the last. One thing I was sure of, whatever action I came up with would have to be executed quickly. I hoped I would be up to the task of acting the fool in front of someone who not only could read my mind, but could seemingly look right through me.

I had to force myself to banish all these distractions and focus as the show began. Tonight was the standard show review followed by band interview. The Wall was pretty full for a weeknight, a lot of high school kids. Judging by the looks of the band onstage I could see why. Your typical five member ensemble; vocals, guitar, bass, drums, moog/keyboards, all decked out in the most up to date clothes, slim hipsters with bedheads. Who was I kidding, I was just as attracted as they were; every girl wants a musician…and they didn't come any more prototypical than this. They were a bit catchy for my taste (again explaining the mass presence of fifteen to eighteen year-olds), but I'm not completely the music snob Ben would make me out to be. They had clever lyrics, simple but heartfelt melodies, interesting key changes. Their songs varied unlike most other bands they could be pigeonholed by their looks alone. Perhaps if they could just develop their own sense of style there would be hope for them yet!

As the club was so crowded, and I wanted to maintain a good view without being smashed between the bodies of the mass of manic sweaty teenagers, I had taken refuge at the side of the stage. It was still a little cramped for my taste, but at least the people in the area were more interested in watching the band fake seizures than doing so themselves. I was enjoying myself, all thoughts of the events of the afternoon banished from my mind. With pen in hand I was jotting notes furiously into my little notebook; the way the keyboardist danced in time with his fingers, his feet flying; the way singer took advantage of all his vocal capabilities, subtle whispers and frantic screams intertwined with the aurally pleasing melodies of the verses; questions that I'd like to ask after their set. I could only hope that all my scribbles would be legible later as I was writing so fast and it was so dark.

Then all of a sudden it almost didn't matter because I almost dropped paper and pen. An arm, a very cold arm, had wrapped itself around my waist, and a cheek, just as cold, had pressed itself against mine, leaning over my shoulder. Lestat caught the notebook before I could drop it, the pen I managed to hold onto myself. I wanted to turn around but his arm held me in place against his body. There was no point in trying to talk, it was too loud and I couldn't turn my head enough to scream in his ear without putting myself in a more compromising position. He had me trapped. God dammit, he wasn't supposed to show up for at least another week. A voice in my head said quite clearly, "I was beginning to feel as though the element of surprise had been lost." I ignored it and did everything I could to keep my attention on the stage. In my head the voice started laughing, quite content with itself.

I told the voice to shut the hell up; I was trying to work.

Thankfully the set was close to finished when Lestat showed up, so I was only stuck there for a couple more songs. As soon as the band walked off the stage and the audience began to scatter I pulled myself out of his damned vice grip. So now not only did he have the gall to go sending my work in for me, he found it amusing to put me in uncomfortable (yes, uncomfortable!) positions while I was trying to do my job. Today's allotment of patience was now running dangerously low.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, still swatting his hands away.

"Seeing you in action!" He responded, as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"That's really not funny Lestat," I shot him an annoyed glance and started to walk towards the makeshift dressing room so I could get this interview done and go home.

"Where are you going?" He asked somewhat incredulously.

"My job." I called over my shoulder. I made my way through the crowd of teenagers that filled the tiny hallway to the side of the stage. I received more than a few angry glances, but that was par for the course. When I finally extracted myself from the crowd I halfway stumbled into the dressing room – right into the arms of the keyboardist.

"Whoa there, are you ok?" He asked, smiling as he scooped up my notebook, which I'd managed to drop again.

"Yes, fine thanks," I couldn't help but smile back. He was downright adorable.

"Are you the reporter from _Howl_?"

"Yah, I'm Evie – it's nice to meet you." I held out my hand.

"Jack, " he smiled again and took my hand. I decided I was going to pretend that he hadn't looked me up and down the way another person I knew liked to do.

Men.

Somehow the flock of teens had been dispersed and the rest of the band made it into the room. Introductions continued all around and I made myself comfortable on a foldout chair across from the band who were all casually spread out over chairs and equipment in front of me. Jack still had that goofy smile on his face, staring at me from a chair across the room.

We'd all gotten settled and I was just about to ask my first question when the door opened. Lestat never would think to knock. "So this is where you made off to." He said; there was a dangerous element in his eyes as he surveyed the room. I, however, seemed to be the only one to notice it. The band jumped up in unison; they'd turned into their own giddy fans in the presence of the great Lestat. I sighed and eased back in my chair. It was going to be a long night.


	11. This Disaster

Chapter 11: This Disaster

Once the initial excitement of Lestat's appearance had worn off, the band once again sprawled themselves out over the available furniture. The atmosphere, however, had changed. I could see in their faces that they were acting – the casual informality that had existed when we first sat down was long gone. Now their faces were set, their sitting positions carefully executed over chair arm and speaker, their eyes darting from me to Lestat, desperate to make a good impression on the superstar. I could see instantly that the interview would be awful; now they'd never answer my questions honestly. My hopes for an interesting conversation that would provide proof for my conviction that these guys were more than just eye candy for teenagers were dashed. It was interviews like this that picked and prodded at my already terminally diseased view of the music industry. Again I found myself muttering "god dammit" under my breath and cursing Lestat, who had managed to out-sit them all (however it is you do that) in another folding chair to my left. His characteristic smirk was setting the new terms for the Q it remained unwavering beneath his black eyes.

After a few moments of this manipulated awkwardness I finally decided it would be up to me to begin. I didn't want to completely give up so quickly; I had been pleasantly surprised on occasion – I knew that the right kind of question could revive the sort of stagnation I was expecting. I cleared my throat and all eyes turned to me; not exactly the most comfortable feeling in the world but now was not the time for waffling. "So," I said, "We could start with the basics if that's ok with everybody." I saw Lestat shift a little out of the corner of my eye, but I decided that for the duration of the interview he was not going to be there. No matter what. It turned out that it was a good place to start because I noticed the band members' demeanor slowly calm – I began to feel that so long as I actively ignored Lestat (despite his constant fidgeting) they followed my example and expressed themselves more freely. We moved on to the more involved questions and the interview turned in a direction I was much more happy with. We all talked animatedly about their experiences, influences, the meaning and structure of their music. Perhaps there was truly hope for this band after all.

It was completely by accident that I began to notice Jack's eyes following me more closely than necessary. Apparently I wasn't the only one to notice, because the other band members picked up on the static flashing between us and played along as the harmless flirting commenced. I asked him about his performance style and the way he looked at me as he answered definitely led to flushed cheeks on my part. At this point I was making sure not to look at Lestat period; though I could tell from the guitarist and vocalist, who were sitting closest to him, that he was visibly angry. Their eyes were getting bigger by the moment and they kept fidgeting, moving ever closer to the edge of their seats farthest from him. I didn't want to get anyone in trouble so I began to segue into my closing questions. I was doing my best to tie things up as quickly as possible, but Jack wasn't making it easy. Apparently he hadn't noticed the sickly pale shade his bandmates to the right had begun to display, or whatever look on Lestat's face was causing that little phenomenon. Finally I decided to close things up for good; I said determinedly that I had all I needed and thanked them for their time. Still, Jack was oblivious to the ever-intensifying situation. He made a beeline for me as the other band member began to pack up equipment.

"We don't have to be in the next town for a couple days so we're heading out to bar hop for a while. Wanna join us?" He smiled in the same disarming way he had when he saved me from tripping earlier. Part of me wanted to say yes so badly, it had been a while since I'd given myself over to that kind of carefree pleasure; and yes, the fact that it would have been a real stitch in Lestat's side didn't hurt either. The other part knew that answering yes would put Jack and the rest of his band in real danger. However, before I had time to answer either way Lestat stepped in beside me saying, "It's getting late, we should be going." He even went so far as to reach for my free hand, which I deftly pulled out of the way, wrapping both arms around my chest.

It was as though time had stopped. Jack looked as surprised as I was. I managed a sidelong glance at Lestat; his face said that now was not the time for arguments. I couldn't believe this was happening. But my work wasn't done quite yet, so I had to remain as professional as possible.

"I'm sorry," Jack mumbled uncomfortably, "I didn't realize you two were together…" Discomfort and the desire to flee was practically radiating off him.

"We're not." I said, stone-faced and decisive. Lestat hadn't moved an inch. I turned away from him saying, "Can I help you guys finish packing up your things?" with as cheerful a tone I could muster. I was not going to end this interview on a note of fear; if word got around…I didn't even want to think about it. I took Jack by the arm and headed towards his fellow bandmates who were lugging big black cases out the back door and into a grey van.

"It's alright, really," he said, glancing fearfully at Lestat.

"Listen," I half-whispered, "I'm so sorry about this, I had no idea he was going to show up."

Jack looked at me anew with surprise. "Are you going to be ok? I mean, are you…safe?"

"I'll be fine," I answered in my best motherly tone, "I can handle myself quite well."

He looked at me skeptically, but in the present circumstances it was obvious that there was nothing he could do (even if he wanted to, we had only just met – and I wasn't exactly the type for a knight in shining armor).

The other four guys joined us to say hasty goodbyes; Lestat was forgotten completely. Thanks were shared all around; I told them to get in touch with me if they were ever in town again. Jack hung back again as the group scrambled into the fully loaded van. He gave me a look that said, "You're sure you'll be alright?" but his face froze when he looked over my shoulder. I could only assume who was standing behind me. So I gave Jack a hug, wrapping my arms around his neck and whispered in his ear "Don't worry, good luck with your tour". He tentatively put his arms around me; it was a short hug to say the least. I gave him a reassuring smile and waved as they drove off.


	12. Between Breaths

Chapter 12: Between Breaths

As soon as the van was out of sight the smile left my face. I started walking down the street without a backwards glance. I was so angry I couldn't think straight. This time Lestat had crossed the line. Annoying me was one thing, but threatening my work (not to mention other perfectly innocent people) was quite another.

I wasn't surprised when a cold hand grabbed mine and spun me around. He just stood there staring me down, as though it was me who had affronted him, who had embarrassed him and put his job in danger. I stared straight back, took repossession of my hand and turned around, walking faster than before.

This time he grabbed me by the wrist and spun me around a little more roughly. His face was a cold mask; his eyes burned with whatever it was that had made him so angry. I had an idea, but I no longer cared; I stared straight back again without flinching. I felt the anger inside of me welling up. I was going to burst soon and it wasn't going to be pretty. Never in my life had someone infuriated me in this way. I tried to shake his grip, but this time he wasn't letting go. With my lips pursed to whiteness I warned him with a thought. I received no answer; he simply continued to stare me down as though I had suffered him the greatest possible offense. I couldn't believe this, what was he playing at?

I had promised myself I wouldn't be the first to break, but finally I could contain myself no longer.

"What in the bloody fucking hell was that?" I half-shrieked, jerking at my still imprisoned hand, "Who do you think you are?"

He still stood there with that impassive look on his face.

"I can't believe you…you pompous ass, that's my bloody job! Do you have any idea what you did in there?"

No change.

I was struggling harder now, my wrist would have finger shaped bruises tomorrow.

"What is _wrong_ with you?" I gasped between labored breaths.

The bastard started to laugh. Not a malicious sort of laughter, not the maniacal laughter of the evil demon he was; straight from the gut, head thrown back – the laughter of a man who found the situation genuinely comical.

He was mocking me.

This time the attempt to free my wrist worked; he was so taken up in laughing at my outburst. I started walking again, but he caught up with me in microseconds. I had my arms wrapped around my chest again in an attempt to prevent any future imprisonment.

"Oh, come on, " he chuckled, "you have to admit, that was absolutely hilarious."

My face turned bright red and I was seriously fighting the urge to just pounce on him and start bashing his head against the pavement. "Hilarious?" I asked, my voice trembling with rage.

"Ugh, you humans take everything so seriously, " he offered flippantly.

"Lestat you just put my fucking job on the line. If my editor ever hears about what happened there she _will_ fire me without a second thought. You threatened the fucking band – they were scared shitless. I don't _care_ if you found it fucking hilarious. If you're looking for fun, go find it somewhere else, because I'm done."

He was still smothering chuckles, but his face quickly changed to match what I hoped he had realized was the seriousness of the situation.

Nope.

"Now _that_ was a gross over-exaggeration if ever I heard one," he said, "I merely behaved as they expected me to. I gave them a show they'll never forget!"

"Right," I muttered.

"Ok," he said, blocking my path – and I was so close to home, god dammit. "There's more to this than what you're telling me. Are you angry with me for not letting you go to the bar?"

My eyes widened to their painful limits at the word "letting".

"Letting?" I shouted at him. "Who are you, my father? My refusal had absolutely, and I cannot stress enough the word 'absolutely' enough, nothing to do with you other than the fact that I was afraid you might drag a couple of those guys behind a dumpster and _kill_ them once you got bored."

He didn't even flinch, though I could see the corners of his mouth edge slightly downwards.

"This is about that boy isn't it?"

"What do you care?"

"Going with them was a bad idea – he had bad intentions." Lestat waved his hand with a dismissive gesture.

"Oh," I shot back, "and your intentions are pure as fucking snow I'm sure."

"Of course!" He smiled. I just shoved him out of the way, trying to make the last block to my door go by as quickly as possible.

Then it hit me. This was the perfect time to bring up my story. I certainly had the anger going. I prayed to whatever muse might be listening that I would be able to think on my feet…

I turned around again and almost ran straight into his chest, the idiot was still following directly behind me.

I gathered all the remaining anger that still boiled in my stomach (and believe me, I still had quite the fountain) and put my hands on my hips, staring him down in what I hoped was a threatening stance.

"That reminds me…" I started slyly, I knew exactly what I was going to say now, I just had to hold my composure.

"I received a call from an editor's assistant at Dawkins' Literary Magazine; apparently his boss was visited by a certain celebrity touting a story of mine."

Lestat's face visibly froze - keep going Evie, you almost have him.

"He said that they didn't appreciate the harassment and that if I wanted to be published in their magazine I was going to have to go through the proper channels like everyone else." I fixed my face in my best seriously angry look, which wasn't difficult, and hoped he would take the bait.

Bingo.

He muttered under his breath, "dammit…I told him it was strictly between us…" He had forgotten me; he was lost in his own thoughts.

"I knew it!" I shouted, stamping my foot and pointing my finger at him in the clichéd accusatory manner.

His brows knit together in confusion. All the feelings of humiliation I'd felt earlier, mixed with the plethora of emotions I'd undergone in the last few hours, heaved themselves onto my shoulders and before I could stop them tears sprang to my eyes.

"You're a god damn asshole and I never want to see your face again!" I shouted at him as he still stood there, stunned. Even knowing it was futile, I ran. Straight up the stairs and to my apartment, where, of course, Lestat was waiting…acceptance letter in hand.

I had already wiped the few tears that had managed to escape on my sleeve, so my face was clean, but more were threatening to spill. Why couldn't he just leave me alone? I was so tired of playing his stupid games; I just wanted to collapse into my pillow and let my tears flow freely. But I knew better than that, so I did my best to pull myself together and face him again.

"Angry phone call, huh?" He waved the letter at me with a self-gratified smirk. "I think it's my turn to ask what's wrong with you!"

I couldn't answer immediately. The lump in my throat was beginning to affect my breathing; speech wasn't exactly possible. I just stood there like an idiot though I knew exactly what I wanted to say…

Once I'd gathered my wits my anger came to my aid again. I was ready for another round, or so I thought.

"You just don't get it, Lestat. You don't get it at all." I shouted.

"Get what? Here I did you a favor and rather than thanking me profoundly as you should be you choose instead to point fingers and shout!"

"Thanking you profoundly? Are you kidding? You really don't get it! Your head is shoved so far up your own ass you can't see anyone or anything that isn't you! And as for your 'favor', well you can take it and stick it right up there with your head!" I was starting to get a little hysterical.

"I got you published!" He returned. I could see this was turning into a genuine argument, with both parties angry. "Obviously I wasted my time trying to help you!"

"Help me? Did I ever ask for your help? Do you understand what your so-called 'help' has probably done to my reputation? Who cares if they want to publish me? How do I know whether it's because my writing was up to their standards or because you _told_ them to? You know what, it doesn't even matter because you've already planted the seed. Who's going to respect me as a real writer when they find out that my first story was published because of special treatment? God, do you ever think about anyone but yourself?"

The longer I spoke the more slurred my words became as the tears started running down my face. My control was gone, it was over; I was a blubbering mess. I couldn't stand the shame of crying in front of him so I put my face in my hands and turned away. I don't know exactly why I had lost my composure this way. I was angry about the story, but not this angry. Everything that had happened since that stupid business party was flashing through my mind, it all added up to chaos. I no longer knew what to do. Then I felt cold arms pull me into a tight embrace. My stupid mind finally shut down and I buried my face in the soft shirt covering a hard chest. He just held me there for a few minutes, I found myself not wanting to ever move again.

Finally his hand found my face and pulled it up to his. He kissed me softly, his hand on my cheek didn't feel as cold as before. The kiss deepened, I let him explore my mouth with his tongue; everything in me was melting, my arms were around his neck, my fingers tangled in his hair. His hands reached my hips and pulled me closer to him, one slipped under my shirt and up my back, fingers moving in circles caressing up and down. Before I knew it he was carrying me to my bedroom; clothes were dispatched with, I let myself get lost in him completely. I could feel him absorbing my warmth as our bodies melded. He wasn't rough or gentle, we both moved like people who needed to be touched with a sort of desperation. We wiped both of our sullied minds clean with each kiss, each caress. Every movement had meaning, not a moment was wasted.

Once we were both too exhausted to give or take anymore we lay there on my bed, replete with satiation. Lestat held me protectively, my head on his chest. His lack of heartbeat was strangely calming; with my ear pressed down where his heart was and my hand flat next to my nose I meditated in the deep silence. Lestat rested his chin on my head and toyed with my hair. Neither of us said a word…with this great expulsion of stress and frustration in the quiet of Lestat's arms I fell asleep.

When I woke the next morning I was alone, but the bed wasn't cold. I sat up and rubbed my eyes wondering whether it had all been a dream. My body said it certainly hadn't, but it wasn't the only thing.

There on the pillow next to mine lay a perfect black rose.


	13. A Night Like This

Chapter 13: A Night Like This

I let my head fall back down on the pillow, the events of the previous evening washing over me in cool waves. I couldn't help but smile just a little…

I picked up the black rose and held it over my face. It didn't seem real, more like it had been plucked from some mythical garden of another time. The petals were smooth and soft and a pleasant unearthly smell emanated from it; I'll never be able to aptly describe the beauty of that simple, elegant flower. Somehow I don't think words could ever do it justice.

It wasn't until I began to wonder whether black roses wilted like their colorful brethren that my mind turned towards my usual practical thoughts.

The terrors of reality hit me all at once.

Had he bitten me? I'd been so completely far gone last night I don't think I would have even noticed! I dropped the rose and my hands flew to my neck, fingers probing every inch of skin…and nothing. Still, I couldn't heave that sigh of relief just yet. I went to my mirror and looked myself up and down. The tension made the search seem to last an eternity. Finally, I decided I was clean and I breathed that sigh with such a release I'd never felt before.

I sat back down on the bed, still feeling a little shaken. If he had bitten me…oh god, I didn't even want to think about it. What if he wanted to turn me into a vampire now? There was no way…I could never do what he does. I'd never be able to live with myself (despite the fact that I'd be dead). Though if he did decide to turn me I wouldn't have much of a choice, now would I?

I wracked my brain, trying to remember exactly how it was that vampires were made. I knew I'd read it somewhere some time or another. Then it occurred to me that the probability that we humans actually knew the truth was highly unlikely – having already learned that lesson the hard way.

But then a new thought crossed my mind. He'd gotten what he wanted, or so I could easily assume. What if I never saw him again? I weighed this revelation back and forth as I took a shower. Up until now I'd hated everything about him, or at least I _thought_ I had. He probably thought I was insane – going from anger to tears to, well, you know… Not that I cared what he thought of me. Because I hadn't since I met him and I certainly wasn't going to start now. Even if we had…ugh, now I was beginning to think that last night had only made things worse. Well it wasn't like it mattered; I mean it's not like we could have an actual long-term relationship. Do vampires even have long-term relationships? Lestat definitely didn't strike me as the "commitment" type.

I stood in front of my mirror in a towel just staring. I simply wasn't sure what to think. I wasn't sad or angry or happy; just that awful, damnable confused. So we'd had sex. So what. It didn't change the fact that he was a vampire and that ultimately I still had no idea what his motives were. I could already hear Ben calling me an idiot. No, last night was, well, it was what it was and there was no point in dwelling on it. Here I was again, stuck having to wait for Lestat to return to get some answers. It was a miserable place to be. I reminded myself that I was human, destined to age and die. I wanted someone to grow old with, to have a family…

_Oh my god._

_Oh my god!_

I had to turn and lean against my sink so I wouldn't fall over. I may have been pretty out of it last night, but I was more than certain that a condom had never become involved. I'd stopped my birth control after I broke up with my last boyfriend. What was the point – it wasn't like I was dating anyone!

Oh my god.

Could vampires even…

Well they were perfectly capable of performing the act so it would only make sense…

I had to get to a pharmacy.


	14. Waiting For You

Chapter 14: Waiting For You

Thirty-five dollars and every girl's worst nightmare later I was eating (or more like picking at) lunch with both Ben and Jane. I hadn't yet breached the topic of the events of last night. I still wasn't sure if I wanted to. But it was beginning to seem as though I was going to have to spill whether I felt like it or not, because both Ben and Jane were giving me the "something big happened and you're not telling me" look.

I let the silence continue a little longer. I could wait it out. Besides, with both of them here, two different opinions clashing – I didn't think it would be pretty. The tension was certainly growing; I was already shifting uncomfortably in an involuntary fashion minute by minute.

They just sat and stared, silently judging me…

"Arrgh, fine! Stop looking at me that way!"

Ben sat back in his chair with a self-satisfied smile while Jane leaned forward, ready for a good dish into _my_ business.

Ben started for me. "I can already guess that it was Lestat," he said, "now as to what it was I can only surmise…"

I didn't say a word, but I could feel my cheeks turning a violent shade of red.

"HA! What did I tell you? I knew it right from the beginning!"

"Shut up, Ben." I was never going to hear the end of this.

"You don't mean…" Jane began with a horrified look.

Suddenly my salad became the most interesting thing in the room.

"Evie!" They practically said in unison.

"Alright! We did it! Big whoop, ok?" But of course there was no way they would let me off so easily.

"Details, you little slut you, we want details!" I think Christmas morning had come early for Ben.

"There's nothing to tell." I said, evasively.

"Like hell there isn't." Jane jumped in – that actually surprised me.

Shaking my head I started to explain how he'd shown up at the concert and messed with my interview.

"Oh, this is truly brilliant." Ben said, smiling from ear to ear. "Two guys in one night, I never would have guessed that you were such a man-whore."

"Hey, do you want to hear this or not?"

And, as an afterthought, "And I'm not a man-whore!"

I moved on to the fight and the ensuing post-fight make up (and of course this morning's resulting freak out). I'd never had such a captive audience. Once I was finished I was surprised to see that both of these people who'd always been so readily vocal when the topic of Lestat was brought up seemed to be speechless.

"Well?" I said. "Questions, comments, concerns?"

"Wow." Jane said, and then retreated to her thoughts.

"Damn. So does that make you a vampire now?" asked Ben.

"Thanks for the tact, I appreciate it, really. I haven't grown any fangs yet, so I'm pretty sure I'm safe there."

"But do you think he'll…"

"NO," I interrupted, "at least not if I can help it".

Jane's face suddenly turned harsh. "Evie, you've gone in too deep this time. He's dangerous! What were you thinking?"

Ben laughed, "She wasn't for once, thank god!"

"Ha ha," I threw Ben a dirty look, "Jane, we've been through this – there's nothing I can do! I don't know how to get rid of him!"

"Oh you have no interest in getting rid of him and you know it!" Ben shot back at me.

I blushed again. Damn involuntary body reactions.

Jane's look softened, but her eyes were worried. "Do you love him?" she asked, "Is this relationship turning…serious?"

I had dropped my fork at the word "love". Ben laughed and I made like I was going to stab him with it.

"Oh, this is serious alright," he said.

Somehow I managed to extract myself (and everyone else) from that luncheon in one piece. I sat on my couch with the black rose and tried to think clearly about what might happen next. Nothing would come, so I threw myself into work instead. I didn't exactly accomplish as much as I would have liked; every time I took my pen off the paper or my face away from the laptop screen I had to look over at the rose sitting on the pillow. It wouldn't make sense, my being in love. I hadn't decided to stop hating him yet! It just wasn't reasonable; it went against everything I'd always been so sure of. And he certainly didn't love me. I was absolutely positive about that. But last night…and the rose… It had to have some sort of meaning, didn't it?

I found myself counting down the minutes until sunset that evening. He had to come. He had to give me answers. For the first time I realized that I _needed_ to see him, even if it was just to continue the fight we'd been having (or staging) since we'd been introduced.

Six o' clock passed. I watched the sun dip down behind the buildings outside my window. The sunset was beautiful; a full palette of colors - crimsons to rosy pinks, yellows, and blues to a deep handsome black. I watched every second, rose in hand, waiting.

Seven came with no Lestat, Eight and Nine followed with the agonizingly slow speed that always comes with expectation. Finally I couldn't take it any longer. He'd only appeared in my house a few times, but I was always running into him outside. That must be it – he must be waiting for me to come to him. Knowing his character, it did make sense; I don't know why I hadn't thought of it before.

I went and got dressed, opting for the same garb as usual. I had to play this right; undoubtedly he would be similarly prepared for the game. I wasn't going to let it show that anything had changed. Not yet, anyways.

I stepped quickly down the stairs, despite my best efforts my body continued to show all the worst signs of my nervousness. I was practically shaking.

As I walked down the street towards Fortune Petite I began to feel different. I was getting more paranoid with every step I took and I quickly realized that there was more behind my fear than Lestat. Something was wrong. It was eerily quiet, the street seemed to be entirely empty save for me. I started walking faster, eyes trained ahead, but the quiet. The quiet was following me. I turned my head every which way, but there was no one there. I had a great desire to run, but my legs felt stiff and sluggish despite the adrenaline. I felt as though I'd become a deer in headlights, but I couldn't _see_ any danger.

That was when my brain decided to revive the memory of Lestat shoving me towards my doorway… Could the other monster be following me? This was turning into a bad horror flick. Where the hell was Lestat?

I looked behind me, but the street was still empty. I quickly decided that this was all nonsense and I should just run straight to the café from here. I took another step, readying myself for take-off, when all of a sudden there was a strange man standing directly in my path.

A man with fangs.


	15. You Ain't Goin' Nowhere

Chapter 15: You Ain't Goin' Nowhere

I was so surprised I almost walked right into him.

I muttered a quiet "Excuse me," with eyes lowered and started to make my way around him.

He moved to block my path; so quickly it was as if that was where he had been standing all along. I pretended as though it was one of those situations where both people keep moving in the same direction accidentally, blocking each other over and over again, and made a second attempt the other way. Before I could finish a step he was there in front of me again. He never said a word; he just glared down at me with a menacing fanged smile.

Now I was truly afraid. Who was this man? This couldn't be the monster Lestat had been protecting me from – he was just another vampire. However, seeing as Lestat was absent at the moment it certainly didn't make any difference for me. Then I heard a voice behind me.

"Well, well, love, now what would a pretty thing like you be doing walking around all by your lonesome this late at night?"

I spun around and it was another man; he smiled widely to display his own pair of prominent canines. I was trapped…my mind began to reel, what was I going to do? Should I mention Lestat?

"That won't be necessary, we already know who you are," said the first man.

"Won't you do _my_ band's interview?" the second laughed.

I gathered what nerve I had. "What do you want?" I sounded like a mouse standing up to a lion.

They were circling me now, looking at me the way Lestat would; but this time I knew there was no questioning their intentions.

"Now, now, no need to be rude," the second man swooped in closer, forcing me to step off to the side – straight into the arms of the first. I made to scream, but was met with a rough, cold hand over the mouth. I tried to struggle but he had a steel grip around my arms as well almost instantly.

"Now, we can all be civilized about this," he said into my ear. "Surely you knew that your friend Lestat has his share of enemies?"

All I could do was squirm and let out muffled screams for Lestat. I trained all my thoughts towards him, hoping he would hear me wherever he was. Both men just laughed cruelly; then the first pushed me towards the second who quickly had me in the same hold.

"I'm afraid you're on your own here, love." The man tightened his grip so I had to gasp for breath, then shoved me to the ground.

"You seem intelligent enough to realize that screaming won't help you much."

My hands were scratched and cut. The sight of the blood on my right hand kept the tears at bay; I did my best to hide it before the vampires above me could notice.

But I was too late. The first grabbed me by the arm and dragged me to my feet. He took my fist and forced it open. I cringed and looked away as he ran his tongue up my palm. I tried to say, "stop", but it wouldn't come.

"Brutus!" exclaimed the second man sternly, "That's enough!"

"Oh, come on Phillip, just having a taste." He pushed me towards Phillip, "I know you want to take a bite…"

It was getting harder to breathe every second.

"You remember our orders, Brutus, she comes untouched."

"Please, Phillip, just one bite?" Brutus was bringing my other hand closer to his mouth, I could only whimper. Then I realized he had left my injured hand hanging by my side. He was so busy arguing with Phillip he wouldn't notice…

I punched him in the neck. Not exactly my target, but hey, I'd never hit anyone before. He was so surprised he actually let go of my left hand and staggered back a bit. I took the opportunity to attempt a run for it, but of course I was grabbed from behind by Phillip before I could take more than two steps. I struggled again in a losing battle. Phillip laughed heartily while Brutus looked at me like I was going to be his next kill no matter what the "orders" were.

"Tsk tsk, that wasn't smart, was it?" Phillip said, his cold lips against my ear. "Though I must say, kudos to you on giving Brutus a well deserved shot."

Brutus' look was deadly as he rubbed at his neck. "You're going to pay for that one." He started to come at us but Phillip warded him off again with talk of orders. I was finally ready to talk again, the almost-escape had reinvigorated me.

I opened my mouth to throw a verbal jab, but Brutus stopped me in my tracks. "Nothing out of you," he said as he pulled a cloth out of his back pocket. I could only guess what was going to happen next so I started struggling with all my might. I could feel the bruises forming where Phillip held my arms; I had no control over the tears now.

Brutus covered my nose and mouth with the cloth and everything turned to darkness.


	16. Everything Evil

Chapter 16: Everything Evil

I couldn't tell if I was awake. I blinked a few times, shaking away the last remaining effects of the sedative that the cloth must have been soaked in. I quickly realized that it made no difference whether my eyes were open or closed; wherever I was there was no light. I sat up slowly and passed my hand in front of my face, but nothing. I may as well have been blind. My whole body ached; the floor beneath me was a cold, hard stone. I wondered how long I'd been out. I attempted to stand up, but decided against it when my head started swimming. I opted for crawling instead. I moved slowly, trying to feel out this dark prison. After what seemed like an eternity I found a wall, just as cold and rough as the floor. I followed it until I had found another. It was an easy guess that I was in some sort of cell, and without any light the odds of finding an exit were minimal.

Then it occurred to me that I might not be alone. Vampires didn't need light to see like humans, did they? Lestat never said anything about that. Still, I had no interest in finding out. I curled up in the corner and hugged my knees, looking around and getting more and more terrified with every passing second. It was so quiet. I was doing everything I possibly could to keep myself calm, but the desire to just start screaming madly was growing. I really was in a horror movie. I tried to think of other things to stay in control. If I ever got out of this it was definitely going to become a short story. Focus on that.

With my sense of time completely distorted I had no idea how long I'd been huddled in that corner when I finally heard a sound. It was a scraping that seemed to be coming from the wall opposite me. A bar of yellow light swept across the floor as the door opened. I had to squint and shield my face; my deprived eyes couldn't handle the sudden flood of bright that filled the room. I could just barely make out two figures coming towards me. Once again I found myself helpless. I pressed myself against the wall wishing I could sink right into it, but the first figure dragged me up from the ground while the second forced a bag over my head.

They said nothing, to each other or me. My eyes were thankful for the reprieve but the rest of me was freaking out. I tried struggling again, but they had no difficulty keeping me in check. We started walking, or more like they started walking and I was doing my best to keep up, alternately jogging and tripping. I banged my shins hard on a staircase; I couldn't help but cry out, but still no response from my captors. I focused on trying to remember the way we were going: up stairs, long hallway, turn right, long hallway, left, hallway, right, stairs; I could swear they were just walking me around to confuse me.

Finally we stopped. Doors opened and we moved forward. Now I was met with a cacophony of sound. All the voices, male and female, sinister laughs and whispers; my knees buckled with terror. My captors were full on dragging me now; I couldn't get back on my feet, my legs had lost their will to work. It was like walking a gauntlet; I was being pushed headlong into the lion's den. I heard them whisper my name along with Lestat's. How could they know my name? Who were these people?

Suddenly my captors shoved me down onto my knees and pulled the bag from off my head. I was met with a sight that I will never forget. The room was gargantuan…and ancient looking; candles and antique furniture, deep burgundies and blacks. Then of course there were the vampires. I was surrounded completely. They gazed at me with black eyes standing or lounging around what seemed like a preordained circle that I now sat in the center of. I felt like I could actually see the bloodlust in their eyes as they stared. Then (as always) a voice from behind me:

"She's the one, we brought her just like you asked."

It was that ass, Phillip. I turned around, and sure enough, he must have been one of the people that dragged me into this hellhole. But whom was he addressing? I turned back the way I'd been dropped and was met with the sight of a new vampire, one far more imposing than any of the others. He was tall and handsome (as is common to their kind, I knew too well), but his eyes and demeanor spoke of the most horrible of things. He looked at me and I felt like I might shrivel and die right on the spot. I could see why he was the leader of this group.

He moved towards me and I instinctively moved back, only to be blocked by a pair of legs. He made a quick hand motion and the legs grabbed me by the back of my shirt and pulled me up on my feet.

"C'mon now love, be a good girl for the master."

Phillip again. I tried to get an elbow into his solar plexus but failed miserably and ended up in another bear hug.

"See, I told you she was a pistol."

The man smiled. It was downright evil. He grabbed my chin in his hand and forced me to look at him. I wanted to spit in his face.

"So you're Lestat's little pet, eh?" he drawled.

I doubted he was expecting an answer so I kept my mouth shut and continued to do my own part glaring daggers.

"What, nothing to say?" Lestat was beginning to look like a petty delinquent next to this guy.

"Well, I suppose we must allow our friend Lestat one thing; he has managed to maintain his taste." He looked me up and down and licked his lips. I started to shiver; this couldn't be happening!

Momentary nerve came. "What do you want?" I said in the bravest voice I could muster.

"Oh ho! So she can talk! Isn't that sweet. How does it feel, my dear, to be the only rabbit in a den of wolves?"

"Shitty," my nerve was growing, "Now what the hell do you want?"

"You were quite right Phillip, she does have a mouth on her. I'm sure we can cure her of that in no time." The look on his face said he was being quite serious. I was in deep shit here; the growing fear in my chest was making me revert to the lowest form of angry discourse.

"Listen, assface, you can't just drag people off the street and lock them up as you please. Now _let me go_."

That pissed him off. He hit me, backhand right across the cheek. The pain was incredible; I was so stunned I couldn't make a sound.

"You listen to me now, _Evie_, no one speaks to me that way – especially a pathetic human."

My face burned, but there was nothing I could do. I probably would have said something else to anger him but he beat me to the punch.

"You're in my house now, and you'll do as you're told. I'm sure you can guess the consequences for misbehavior, but I suppose I should give you a demonstration just in case." He smiled fully and his fangs gleamed in the candlelight.

Phillip loosed one of my arms and despite my best efforts the man laid his cold hands on my wrist and pried my fist open. It was a shot for shot replay of the previous whenever, but I knew this time there would be no stopping. He brought my hand to his face, eyes on me to make sure I was watching. I'd stopped breathing completely. He considered the back of my hand for a second, then turned it over and bit straight into the flesh of my palm. I squeaked as his fangs dug into my flesh. He took a mouthful, or so I guessed, and smiled again, eyes closed.

"So very sweet…" He looked at me viciously again, "I am truly going to enjoy this."

For the first time in my life, I fainted.


	17. The Walls Have Teeth

Chapter 17: The Walls Have Teeth

I awoke on a very comfortable, very large bed in a far too opulent room. I was pretty sure that I could guess where I was, but I really didn't want to think about it. I moved to get up from the bed, but had to stop momentarily. I'd placed my weight down on my injured hand. The bite was red and puffy and painful to the touch; here half my hand was out of commission. It could only get worse from here – I had to find a way out, _now_.

The room was downright ridiculous. I couldn't help but admire the elegant wall-hangings and furniture as I made my way towards the door. It made no sense to me; how could beings so depraved as these appreciate this kind of beauty? I could feel myself getting scared again (the pain in my hand definitely wasn't helping), so I tried to focus on the intricately woven carpet beneath my feet.

The door was locked. Of course it was locked. They're always locked in these situations. I shook the knob with my uninjured hand, but nothing happened. I considered shouldering my way through, then reminded myself that with my small stature and the thickness of the door it was more likely that I'd knock myself out again than get through. I was still standing there considering what to do when the door opened by itself.

It was the absolute last person I wanted to see. He smiled that wicked smile that froze my veins. I would have taken Phillip or even Brutus at that point. He didn't even bother to speak; he just backed me into the room. The door shut behind him on its own. I heard the lock click and knew I was in serious trouble.

I couldn't stand the way he stared and so I burst out with, "Who are you? What do you want?"

"It's not really any of your business who I am."

"Like hell it isn't, answer me!"

He sneered a little, "You humans have no sense of decorum."

I looked at him wondering what that could possibly mean. "Just tell me what I want to know! It's no skin off your back!"

He laughed. It could have been the devil himself laughing. "I can see why Lestat likes you. You really want to know why you're here?"

I was terrified, but I couldn't help looking at him like he was an idiot.

"You know Lestat has ruined us all with his disgusting music."

"Really? I would have thought he helped you."

He laughed again, "And how is that?"

"He's taken the fear out of the vampire myth. Makes things a little easier for you."

This made him angry. His face grew hard and his eyes bore right into me. "No!" He said, "We have no need for 'easier', we _should_ be feared!" The whole room seemed to shake with his last words.

"Alright," I said complacently, though it sounded more like a squeak than an actual word. "What does any of that have to do with me?"

He perked up again, the unnerving smile returning to his lips. "You, little one, you shall be part of his retribution from _us_."

My heart started thumping, "Retribution? Simply for taking fear away?"

"It's the icing on the cake, my dear, you are a music journalist, no?"

"It makes no difference what I am, and what do you mean 'the icing on the cake' – what else has he done?"

"What, you get angry when I don't answer your questions and then you refuse to answer mine?"

This was crazy, "I already know that you know what I am, there's nothing to answer."

"Smart girl," he said, stroking his chin. He started to pace around me, circling in like a vulture.

I could hear my own heartbeat now. I couldn't catch my breath. Grasping at straws I asked, "What has Lestat done that was so bad that I have to pay for it?"

He dismissed my question, "You wouldn't understand, you are human."

He was getting closer. I was getting dizzy, turning and turning to keep him in view. I had to keep him talking…the way he was looking at me… Without really thinking I began mentally damning Lestat.

"Yes, I believe that by the time we're through you'll hate him as much as us. If you're still alive, that is."

Not funny. Really not funny. God dammit Lestat, where are you?

"Oh, didn't he tell you? He won't be coming. He wouldn't risk coming here for anything – especially a human."

The look of fear on my face must have grown because he took on a mock sympathetic mask, "What, not going to fight me back with vows of undying love between the two of you?"

I didn't say anything. I couldn't say anything. But I had begun to doubt whether Lestat would save me. We didn't love each other. At least I didn't think we loved each other. We'd only just breached the 'like' stage.

The man's face became cruel again, "This game has become boring." Add vicious smile and prominent fangs. "We should start a new one."


	18. Red House

Chapter 18: Red House

I screamed as he lunged at me. I dodged such that he missed me by inches, but I knew it was only because that was the way he wanted it.

"I'll say it again," he said, "Smart girl. Still, it won't do you any good here."

I began to back up again, though the fear of taking my eyes off him kept me from seeing where I was going. He followed me nonchalantly, eyes flashing as he rid himself of his shirt. My stomach was somewhere around my toes at this point.

It took less than a second for him to grab me – he pulled me up against his chest and then spun me around, an iron arm around my waist. He pulled my hair to the side and ran his cold fingers up my neck. I shivered…this couldn't be happening! How did I get myself into this? All rational thought had been replaced by deep primal fear.

He leaned over my shoulder, brushing my bare neck with nose and ice cold lips. I had become the mouse. And he was toying with me. I could barely give out a murmur of "Stop…"

He simply laughed. Then before I could even think to react he had pushed up the sleeve of my t-shirt and torn into the flesh of my shoulder with his fangs. I cried out, tears of pain streaming down my face. He pulled back and I could feel the warmth of the blood that still poured from the wound snaking down my arm. He ran his tongue back to my shoulder like Brutus had done with my palm. Revolted, I had to turn my head away; even if it did leave my neck open for attack.

Then he did something I never would have expected. He began to call other vampires into the room.

The lock clicked open again and a line of them came through the door. Holding me firmly in place he beckoned them forward. They bared their fangs in anticipation. My brain must have shut down, or maybe it was the loss of blood; I was entering a dream-like state. They came one at a time, handling my arms as though they were looking for the choicest place to bite. I cried out with every one, making them laugh sinisterly. Soon both my arms were covered wrist to shoulder in puncture wounds. I felt so weak, the man wasn't holding me back so much as he was holding me up.

After the last vampire had finished and left the lock clicked again. The man carried me to a chaise and laid me down.

Still crying and head swimming, I managed to ask again, "Why are you doing this to me?"

I must have sounded so very pathetic; he looked at me with something akin to pity.

"I'm not doing this to you," he said, that same mock innocence Lestat liked to use in his eyes. "It is your friend Lestat that has done this to you."

"No," I insisted in my delirium, "He wouldn't do that."

"Oh, but he has. He knew we would come for you, but he did nothing to protect you."

"No," I said again, sounding more and more childish. My fear, my anguish, my pain were all making me revert to a child-like state.

"Let go, my dear, forget him. Hate him." He was stroking my hair; I couldn't even gather the energy to turn my head away. I just wanted to disappear; I was disgusted, with myself, with Lestat, with the man sitting before me. But he hadn't finished with me yet.

He undressed me and I had no power to stop him. He carried me to the bed and I couldn't even struggle. He raped me and all I could do was shut my eyes as tightly as possible and wish for it all to end. When he was finally done I was covered with bite marks from head to toe. I passed out with him still looming over me.

When I regained consciousness the room was dark. It took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust. I was still sprawled out on the bed; I almost screamed when I felt a hand on my stomach and realized it was him. I tried to sit up a little but my body was still weak. I rolled over slowly, praying he wouldn't wake up. Somehow I managed to make it off the bed and into the corner of the room. Everything hurt. I let the tears flow anew and pulled my knees to my chest feeling as though I would never be clean again.

I'd fallen into another sort of stupor when the door opened. I didn't move. I didn't care what happened anymore. I closed my eyes and felt a sheet fall over my naked body. I lost consciousness again as someone lifted me into their arms and carried me out of the room.


	19. Stand By Me

Chapter 19: Stand By Me

My eyes opened slowly, and I found myself wrapped in a sheet on a bed. After a few seconds of bewilderment I realized that I was back in my own room. Still, the feeling of relief that should have accompanied that epiphany wouldn't come.

I sat up slowly, very slowly. I can't even explain the weakness that I felt…my whole body was heavier, my head swam and my vision blurred the more I exerted myself. I had finally managed to move into a sitting position on the edge of the bed when I realized I wasn't alone. I looked behind me and who should be lying there asleep but Lestat. Seeing him dragged all the horrible memories of that cursed house back to the forefront of my mind. My whole body shuddered and I had to look away. I began to think that I might never be able to look at him again.

I decided I didn't want to be around when he woke up. I tried to stand up, but my legs buckled instantly and I was forced to crawl slowly, picking my way to the bathroom like a dying man lost in the desert. I had to stop periodically and let my head fall to the soft carpet; every movement was an agony, my punctured hands cried out in pain with every step forward.

After what seemed like an eternity I made it to the cool tile of my bathroom. I wrapped the sheet tighter around my mangled body and pulled myself up under the sink. There I resumed my previous position, knees to my chest, shivering. In the fog that clouded my senses I thought about Lestat lying on my bed, about the words of the man who had done this to me. I felt entirely hollow… But underneath all the pain there was a growing anger. If I had never met Lestat this wouldn't have happened. That evil man's words had worked their poison. I didn't want to believe them; I knew that this reaction I was feeling was exactly what they had been meant for. Yet there was a measure of truth in them. Still, he had gotten me out of there, even if he was too late to prevent the damage… Once again I'd returned to the confusing dilemma that was Lestat.

It was at this point that he stuck his head in the doorway. He moved towards me but I immediately brushed him off – I couldn't stand the thought of being touched by anyone right now. I still didn't want to look at him. I leaned my head against the cool tile of my bathroom wall and closed my eyes, trying to shut out everything, the whole world.

"Are you alright?" he asked. My ears must have been deceiving me, it almost sounded like there was genuine concern in his voice.

I didn't say a word; I just stayed in my position trying to drown everything out.

"Evie…" he began, but I interrupted him.

"Don't." My voice hovered somewhere between a whisper and a command. "I don't want to hear it. I don't want to hear anything. Don't even look at me. Just leave me alone."

"No. I can't leave you alone, I have to know what happened…"

I opened my eyes and looked at him with the most hatred I'd ever felt in my life. "You want to know what happened to me?" I demanded, louder now. I grabbed the edge of the sink and hauled myself up, balancing precariously on my useless legs. Holding on for dear life I let the sheet drop, exposing my disfigurement. I made sure he could see the red gashes on my breasts and abdomen, my back, my neck. Without knowing it, I began to cry. Silently, the tears slipped down my cheeks to the floor.

His face hardened into a look I'd never seen before. Was it anger? Was it grief? I couldn't tell, but I knew it was a look not to be trifled with.

My legs wouldn't hold me anymore. I dropped to my knees and he reached out to help me but I shunned him again.

"I said _don't touch me_."

He recoiled, looking almost stunned. I pulled the sheet up around my body again and curled up back in the corner.

"Evie…" His voice, had it broken just a little?

"I told you to leave me alone." Everything in me had turned to ice.

"You need help."

"Not from you." I could feel him shrink a little with the harshness of those words, but I wasn't apologizing for anything. I meant them.

"Evie…"

"GO!" I shouted with all the strength I had and flung my bloodstained arm towards the door.

He looked at me helplessly. The great Lestat was looking down on me without his unwavering confidence. He began to say something else, but changed his mind and walked out. I didn't let my head fall to my knees until I heard the front door click. Then I cried until the tears would no longer come.

I must have sat there under the sink for at least an hour. I didn't think I would ever leave that spot when I heard the front door open again. It couldn't be Lestat, I was sure I'd made it clear that I didn't want him around. Then again, when had that ever worked before?

It wasn't Lestat, thankfully. It was Jane. She called out from my kitchen; I tried to answer, but I didn't have the strength.

When she saw me on the floor she gasped and ran straight towards me. "My god, Evie, what happened to you?"

I didn't say a word; I knew my body would speak for itself.

She helped me up, and in doing so got her first glimpse at the bite marks covering my arms.

"Oh my god," she exhaled.

She had to hold most of my weight as we moved back into the bedroom. I had no energy left at all. I fell over on my side on the bed as soon as we sat down. I couldn't look at her…I didn't want her to see me this way. I probably would have started crying again, but there was nothing left.

Jane kneeled down beside the bed next to my face and pushed my hair back. "Evie…how could this have happened?" Tears welled up in her eyes as she pulled the sheet back to reveal more bites.

She didn't let the tears fall. Instead the businesswoman in her took over and she said firmly, "We have to get you to a hospital."

She rifled through my drawers and grabbed some loose clothing. She helped me dress, neither of us saying anything. The process was slow, every movement for me was painful, and no matter how hard I tried to keep it from showing in my face I could see Jane growing more and more worried.

I lay down on the bed again as Jane called a cab. Then she helped me up and we made the tortuous journey down to the curb.

At the hospital they admitted me instantly. It was an easy guess for anyone (especially a doctor) that I was in need of a blood transfusion or two.

Once things had settled down and the doctors and nurses had left me in piece with my IV and bag of O negative, Jane and I had a chance to finally speak.

I was afraid, "What will I tell them? They'll never believe me!"

Jane was a peach, "Don't worry about that, I'll take care of it."

I sighed and turned my head away. At least I was beginning to feel more lucid. For the second time I came to a realization. I pulled Jane towards me so I could talk quietly. "I need you to go to the pharmacy…"

She looked at me with shocked comprehension, but regained her composure quickly.

"Of course, I'll go now," she said. "Do you want to talk about it?" she added sympathetically.

I closed my eyes. "Not right now, ok?"

"Of course. But whenever you're ready, I'm here."

I just took her hand and smiled my thanks.

A giant hubbub broke out in the hallway. We could hear shouts of "I will not calm down! I have to see her! Do you know who I am?"

Leave it to Ben to make even the worst situations a little lighter.

He burst in the room breathing heavily, still waving his hands above his head. He took one look at me and said, "Good lord Evie, what in the bloody hell happened to you?"

Jane tried to shush him, but he wouldn't have any of it.

"Whoever it was, I'll kick his ass, I swear! You just tell me…I know people, you know, I can take care of it!"

I couldn't help but laugh a little…Ben grinned at me, but when he got a closer look at my arms and neck he sobered up instantly.

"Oh my god," he said quietly.

"Well," said Jane, taking control of the room again, "I'll be back soon. Ben if you leave her alone I will hunt you down and make you pay, understood?"

"Yes ma'am!" Ben gave a mock salute, taking on her veneer of strength.

I finally began to relax a little. I wasn't alone, and maybe in time things would be alright again.


	20. It's Just Begun

Chapter 20: It's Just Begun

I spent two days in the hospital having blood and various other chemicals pumped into my body. The doctors treated me like some sort of medical curiosity; they poured in and out of the room, new ones every time, coming to see me like I was some sort of circus freak. Jane came up with some cockeyed story about bug bites, but that just seemed to egg them on in trying to figure out what had happened to me. Whenever they asked I just told them I couldn't remember.

The nurses made jokes about the bite marks, how I must have had vampires sucking my blood. They'd all laugh and make scary faces at one another while I just smiled weakly and closed my eyes. I hoped none of them would ever find out just how unfunny being bitten by a vampire really was.

I was beginning to feel better, though. Ben and Jane took shifts sitting at my bedside and various other friends came in to gawk and chat. The giant hubbub that was the hospital itself was comforting, even at three o'clock in the morning I knew there was someone just outside the door if I needed them. This was all wonderful because of all things, what I really didn't want was to be alone. If I was alone I would start to think, and if I started to think…well, let's just say I was intent on keeping my attention diverted at all times.

On the second day Jane tried to get me to confide in her again. I lay there with all the tubes sticking out of me and stared at the ceiling for a moment. It wasn't that I was ashamed of what had happened; why the hell should I be? What happened to me was caused by pure, unabashed evil; it was in no way my fault. I knew that for certain. I just wasn't sure that I wanted to relive it out loud so soon (or ever) and telling Jane the story only felt like spreading my pain to a larger audience, something that I could only see as completely unnecessary. When I said these last thoughts out loud Jane, in her infinite goodness, dismissed them as pure nonsense, insisting that voicing what had happened would be difficult, but it would be good for me. She also scoffed at the implication that she couldn't handle it.

So finally I gave in and she listened as I recounted the kidnapping and the bites…and the rest. I wouldn't let myself cry. I hate crying in front of people; but it was difficult once Jane let a few tears fall. I finished as quickly as I could; once I had started, it poured right out of me – I barely even took breaths between sentences. But when it was over, I felt lighter. The monsters in my mind had lost an ounce (if only an ounce) of their power. I finally breathed that sigh of relief and told Jane that she could tell anyone whatever they wanted to know, so long as I didn't have to ever again.

I slept easier that night. Better too. Yet still I couldn't help but wake up in the middle of the night. The lights from the machines beside me and the window in the door kept the room from being completely dark. It did make sleep slightly harder to achieve, but I knew they weren't the reason I woke up this time.

I was still exhausted and moving around agitated my wounds. I shifted slightly to a more comfortable position and couldn't prevent myself from groaning in the process. Then I stared up at the ceiling again and closed my eyes for a moment.

"I know you're there, Lestat." I said clearly, but quietly so as not to arouse the suspicions of the people outside.

Sure enough, he appeared out of the shadowed corner opposite my bed. It was so strange to see him hovering in the dark instead of declaring his presence immediately upon arrival. He came to the side of the bed and surveyed the machinery and the tubes sticking out of my arms. His face was set somewhere between concern and anger; he didn't even bother to hide it. A tiny voice in my head whispered that maybe, just maybe, what happened to me had affected him more than I thought. Still, I was tired and not in the mood to be playing games.

"What do you want?" I said to the ceiling. It was still hard to look at him.

"I don't want anything. I came to see how you were doing." His voice was soft and even. There was no hint of ego or intrigue; I almost couldn't believe it was him talking. Still, I wasn't feeling particularly charitable.

"I'm doing just peachy, can't you tell?" I shoved my IV-laden elbow towards him for effect but only succeeded in aggravating every other part of my body. I groaned again involuntarily and brought my arm back to my side.

He jumped a little when I groaned and rushed closer to the bed looking worried. Worried! Was this really happening?

"Should I call the nurse?" he asked hesitantly.

"No, I'm fine," I grunted, staring at the ceiling again.

"Evie, please look at me."

I still didn't want to. So he looked a little concerned. So what? I was a fucking train wreck; anyone who didn't look concerned after seeing me would have to have a heart of ice. I mentally kicked myself. He was making an attempt at being nice. This may not ever happen again.

I turned my head slowly and looked at him. "I don't have anything to say."

"Yes," he said, "You do. I can see it in your face."

"What, not reading minds anymore?"

"Evie…"

"What?" I was getting frustrated again. Why was he even here?

"I'm sorry."

Excuse me? That one threw me for a loop. I gaped at him. "Excuse me?"

"This shouldn't have happened to you."

"Is that what you came here to say? 'This shouldn't have happened to you?' Of course it shouldn't have happened to me! What's wrong with you?" It all came out in a torrent; my voice grew louder with each word, I barely remembered in time that someone might hear me and come in. I didn't need a psychiatric evaluation on top of all this.

Lestat looked flustered. "Why are you so angry with me?" He asked.

That was the wrong question. So much for concerned.

I trained my eyes back on the ceiling and told him to get out or I'd call the nurse.

"Evie, you can't just shut me out!"

"Watch me. Good night Lestat."

"I'm not leaving until you talk to me!"

I showed him the hand remote and pushed the button.

That pissed him off. "I guess I'll have to wait," he said in his best charming tone.

He disappeared as the nurse entered the room.


	21. All Over Again

Chapter 21: All Over Again

The nightmares began a few days after I was discharged from the hospital. Every night I relived it all in bits and pieces; a thousand gash marks, being dragged down a hallway, every word that horrible man had said to me. It wasn't long before I was afraid to even close my eyes.

I didn't tell anyone; I chalked it up to post-traumatic stress and did everything I could to work around it (however unsuccessful this was turning out to be). One night I woke up in a cold sweat with my next-door neighbor banging the hell out of my door. She said I'd been screaming for almost twenty minutes, she was about to go back and call the police when I finally opened up.

Despite the fact that I knew I should say something, I couldn't. I'd already been through the whole "victim" thing and had more than my fill. I hate it when people worry about me; it makes me worry in this giant vicious cycle that doesn't get anyone anywhere. So I kept my mouth shut and resigned myself to getting less sleep.

But that was the least of my problems. My boss completely freaked when she found out what happened, which led to a decrease in the number of my assignments (only for the time being she said, but the look on her face when she saw my arms and neck said it would most likely be longer, if she didn't fire me altogether…). On top of this I had to start taking a cab to shows - not just because I was terrified of walking there myself (I'll admit it, I was), but because everyone I knew insisted on it as well. So now I had less income and the cab fees were eating their way into my savings. There was no way I would be able to survive like this for long.

Then of course there was the issue of Lestat. I expected him to be waiting in my apartment as soon as I got home, but there was no sign of him. My guess was that he was giving me time to cool down. Since our last two encounters hadn't ended well for him it was easy to guess why; not that most of our little rendezvous hadn't ended in shouting of some kind, but seeing as this time it revolved around a few of his fellow vampires kicking the shit out of me, it was understandable.

He was going to come eventually, though. I was doing my best to mentally prepare for it. I suppose I didn't _completely_ blame him for what happened anymore. I tried to remember that night he had sent me home in a rush, that he was protecting me. He would have stopped it if he could… The words of that man were burned into my mind, "Lestat has done this to you…He knew that we would come for you, but he did nothing to protect you…Forget him…_Hate him_…" I fought them off as nonsense, yet they always returned; in the daylight and in my dreams they echoed through my head. I didn't want to see him. I never wanted to see another vampire ever again. I wanted to go back to the world that made sense, the world without Lestat.

But he would come, whether I wanted him or not.

He was sitting on my couch reading another one of my stories when I came back from a show. I wasn't surprised. I locked the door and put my bag down gingerly (the bites were now only bruises, but they still hurt like hell). I started to make coffee, ignoring him like he was ignoring me.

Finally, he put down the papers and broke the silence. "How was the show?"

"Fine."

He stood up off the couch and looked at me, I kept my eyes averted. "How are you?"

"Fine."

He moved to face me across the countertop. "Is 'fine' all you're going to have to say to me tonight?"

I looked him square in the eyes, "That depends entirely upon you."

"You don't seem angry anymore."

"Will my being angry make you leave?"

"No."

"Then there you have it," I said sarcastically, "I'm not angry."

"Of course you are."

"Yah, well seeing as it doesn't make a difference…"

"It does, you should be angry."

"Ok." That caught me off guard a little.

"You got caught in the crossfire of something that has absolutely nothing to do with you, and for that I am sorry."

I gaped a little, "Thank you?"

"What Marcus did and said to you…"

I cut him off, "Wait, how do you know what he said to me?"

Lestat was slightly taken aback, "Well, I saw…"

"You saw what? How could you have seen that? You weren't there!" My face was turning red; this didn't make any sense.

"No, of course not…"

"Then how did you see it?" I demanded, banging my fist on the counter and instantly regretting it.

He looked down, "The dream…" He let the words fall.

I was horrified, "How do you know about my dreams? I haven't told anyone!"

"Dreams?" he asked, looking as confused as I was.

"Yes dreams! What have you done?"

"I only called one…"

"Called? Called what?"

"I had to see what had happened, you wouldn't tell me…I had to know."

"Oh my god…" I had to stop for a second to let it sink in. "You mean it was you giving me those nightmares? You son of a bitch! I can't sleep at night! Every time I close my eyes I have to relive it! You're just as much of a monster as he is!"

I was screaming. I had rounded the counter and started hitting him as hard as I could. I was so angry I couldn't see. He grabbed my wrists but let them go again when I cried out in pain. He reached out again but I moved away, gently rubbing my bruised wrists.

"You have to understand! I had to know! I only did it once; I had to see your memories! I didn't do it to hurt you!"

"Of course you didn't." I shouted, "And yet somehow I always end up hurt!"

"Evie, listen to me!"

"No! I'm done! I don't want to have anything more to do with you. Get the hell out of my apartment!"

"I'm not leaving until you calm down and talk to me."

"God dammit Lestat, just leave!" I sank down into the corner of the couch as the tears began to fall.

He sat down next to me and tried to pull me to him but I pushed him away as hard as I could and buried my face in the arm of the couch.

"I haven't been giving you whatever dreams you're having now." He said, his voice wavering a little. "You have to know that I wouldn't do that to you."

I pulled my face out of the cloth, "But you did find it necessary to do it to me once. Excuse me if I don't see a difference."

"I'm sorry, alright? I'm sorry for everything. Marcus was right, I didn't protect you like I should have."

I sat up, resigned to everything, "It doesn't matter Lestat, what happened happened; you'll excuse me if I've had enough of vampires forever. Please, just leave me alone." Even I could hear the weary desperation in my voice.

"No."

I covered my face in my hands, completely overwrought with frustration. He took my left hand gently in his and asked me to look at him. I was still crying, so I looked the other way.

"Evie, please." He said quietly.

I turned, angry and ashamed of my tears. "Lestat, I asked you to leave…"

"I can't leave you now. Marcus will come after you again. You're still in danger."

"I don't care." I shook my head, fighting back more tears.

"He's the one sending you those dreams, Evie. You have to let me help you."

I just shook my head again; I didn't have any fight left in me.

"You're stuck with me, kid, I'm not going anywhere." He was starting to sound like the old Lestat.

"Fine." I said, defeated, and stood up. "I'm going to bed. I'd like to get some sleep so why don't you go ahead and get to work on that."

"Of course." He smiled and stood up as well.

"And no, you're not invited." I said firmly.

His smile waned and he sat down again.


	22. A Dream For Us

Chapter 22: A Dream For Us

It became routine, saying goodnight to Lestat in my living room. As much as I hate to admit it he was actually helping. The dreams didn't stop completely, but they certainly didn't affect me the way they had before. He walked me to shows so I no longer lost a chunk of my paycheck to cab fare. I even received a nice check in the mail for the story Dawkins' had bought (though that was something he was never going to hear so long as I could help it). The feeling was strange, to say the least. He was still the arrogant, overbearing, conceited Lestat; yet somehow there was more consideration in the way he acted. The shmoozy charm had been replaced by something more…real.

Still, I was keeping my distance. Everything was business as far as I was concerned. As soon as the "Marcus" problem was taken care of this would end and we could part ways. I was sure that was what I wanted - pretty sure, anyways.

It had been three weeks since the last dream. I was well back to sleeping regularly. Whatever it was Lestat had done was working. I almost decided to tell him that everything was fine, he didn't have to do this anymore, but something told me he would just dismiss the idea.

We said goodnight as always. He moved to touch me as he did every night; and I dodged my way into my bedroom as I always did. It was too much, letting him touch me had turned into this giant wall; if I let him everything would come tumbling down and I just wasn't ready for it.

I had a hard time falling asleep even though I was tired. Despite the fact that I am always loath to admit it, I was thinking about Lestat and how he had seemingly changed. I don't know what time I fell asleep, all I remember is seeing red. Rivers of blood surrounding me and that face, Marcus' face. It was my blood, it was happening all over again. It was so real…I screamed with all my might but Marcus just stood there and laughed. "Where is your Lestat now? It seems he's failed to protect you yet again." He pulled me towards him and tore into my neck. The pain…it was incredible; I could feel the warmth of the blood trailing down my body. I just kept screaming…

Someone was shaking me. I opened my eyes to see Lestat bent over me. I was so startled I didn't recognize him at first; I shot up and pushed him away. He grabbed my shoulders and forced me to look at him. "Evie, wake up, you were dreaming again!"

I was paralyzed with shock. I just sat there shivering looking straight ahead. This time when Lestat pulled me into his arms I had no power to resist. I hid my face in his shoulder and shut everything out. Lestat just said, "It's alright, it's alright," over and over again.

When I regained my composure, fully awake, things became awkward. I pulled my face up and sat back a little. I couldn't look him in the face. I wiped the remaining wetness from my eyes and cheeks. "I thought you…I thought…"

"I thought I had too," he said quietly.

I looked at the clock; it was four thirty. "You have to be going soon," I said to the clock.

"I know, but not yet." He reached out and pushed the tangled hair out of my face. "You can still sleep, I know what's happening."

I wanted to ask, but I was so tired. My mind was a fog, still trapped in that horrible place. I lay back down on my side trying not to let myself become overwhelmed again. Lestat placed a soft kiss on my forehead and got up to leave.

"Wait…" I said hesitantly. He turned and looked down at me. "Will you stay, just until I fall asleep again?" I asked.

"Of course." He climbed onto the bed behind me.

"Above the covers…" I blurted out.

"Of course."

The covers between us, he draped his arm over my waist and pulled me up against his chest. "Go back to sleep," he whispered reassuringly.


	23. Halfway There

Chapter 23: Halfway There

I began to dread the following evening as soon as I woke up that morning. There was a Lestat-shaped dent in my comforter and I just wasn't sure how I felt about it. Everything was becoming so complicated…

Ben and Jane dropped by unexpectedly with takeout around seven. They were barely in the door when Jane gasped, "Evie, what is _he_ doing here?"

I sighed. Why did he always have to show up at the most inopportune moments? Without even turning around I tried to play it off, "Oh him? He just likes to skulk in dark corners whenever he can."

A slightly irritated voice behind me said, "_I_ do not _skulk_."

"Of course you don't…" I mumbled towards Ben, who broke into a grin immediately.

"I heard that."

Before I could stop her, Jane started in on him. What was he trying to prove? How could he have let his "friends" (as she called them) do this to me? Who did he think he was coming back here?

Ben and I stood on the sidelines enjoying the show.

Lestat looked visibly uncomfortable, clearly unsure of what to do with this crazy woman screaming at him and making threatening gestures. He kept looking at me like he expected me to intervene. Then the priceless moment; none of us ever would have predicted it. She slapped him right across the face.

We all stood there stunned (Lestat especially) for a moment. Then I burst out laughing, so hard I was holding my sides. They all just sort of stared at me and then Ben joined in. Jane was still livid; her face had turned all sorts of shades of purple in the past few minutes, but even she loosened up a bit. I was laughing, I hadn't laughed so freely since the incident.

With these introductions concluded we sat down to Chinese. Lestat sulked in the corner, not the best of sports. When we finished I let them out smiling genuinely and thanking them both (but Jane in particular) for a glorious evening.

I leaned back against the closed door and looked back at Lestat, still pouting. "Well aren't we the spoiled child?" I asked, laughing again.

He scoffed at me and moved to the couch.

"Oh come on," I said, sitting down on the opposite side, "It was funny and you know it."

No answer.

"Well, they're my friends and they only have my best interests at heart."

"Clearly I'm not in your best interest." He said brusquely.

"No, that you are not." I laughed again.

His frown deepened.

"You know they have no idea about the dreams, they don't understand." I said, trying to placate while still stifling the laughter that wouldn't cease.

"I'm here helping you and that…that…"

I gave him a dangerous look.

"She hit me!" He threw his arms up in the air in disbelief.

"From her perspective you had it coming."

He gave me a look.

"Oh please, you can't tell me you've never been slapped before!"

His response was to pull on the charming look, but I wasn't having any of it.

"Moving on…" I said, then hesitated as I began to breach the topic of the previous evening. "Last night…"

His face turned serious. "I know, the dream."

"You said you knew what was happening. I thought everything was taken care of?"

"So did I."

"But…?"

"There's a difficulty I forgot to consider."

I took a deep breath; this couldn't be good. "What kind of difficulty?"

It looked as though he were pondering the best way to handle the subject; he opened and shut his mouth once or twice. "The thing is…Marcus has, well he has an easier access to your mind than I do." It seemed to take a full minute to get all that out.

"What do you mean? Why?"

From the way Lestat looked at me I knew I wasn't going to like the answer. "Marcus has tasted your blood…" He broke off looking apologetic.

I thought about it for a second. "I'm not letting you bite me Lestat." I said point-blank, and I meant it.

"Of course not!" He shot back. "It just makes things more difficult."

"So what do we do? Or should I say what do you do?"

"I'm not sure…"

"Great." I sank back into the pillows. "Just great."

He shifted closer to my side of the couch. I was watching him like a hawk, but I didn't move.

I looked straight at him. "Lestat, tell me what happened."

He looked down, black hair shading half his face.

"Marcus said the music thing was just icing on the cake; what did you do?"

He looked up with that toothy smile and said, "I pissed off the wrong people."

"You're going to have to do better than that." I insisted. "I may be 'only human' but I am capable of understanding if you'll take the time to explain."

He shook his head. "That's just it…there are intricacies in vampire laws and relations that are…They're so old, I can barely even remember them."

"Lestat, that is a complete cop out answer."

He looked at me earnestly, moving closer yet again. "It's not! All I can say is that when you're immortal grudges go a long way."

"So that's all you're going to tell me? Surely I deserve a little more than that?"

"You do," he said, and then paused, thinking. "It's like me asking you to explain, I don't know, human gang rivalries. There just isn't a straight and logical answer. Do you understand?"

"I suppose." I allowed quietly, "Though I'm not satisfied." I added.

"Of course not." He smiled indulgently, "I wouldn't expect you to be."

With that I realized just how close we had become in proximity.

"Well," I said uncomfortably, "I'd best be off to bed."

I started to get up, but Lestat pulled me back to the couch. Before I knew what was happening he was full on kissing me. I was too shocked to react, but by the time I'd regained my senses it was too late.

He pulled back and with a characteristic grin said, "That's for laughing when your friend slapped me."


	24. Voices of Violence

Chapter 24: Voices of Violence

Jane's slap heard cross the world had effectively broken the ice again. It wasn't long before Lestat started sleeping over every night, in my bed instead of on the couch. His presence had ceased to scare me, in the irony of all ironies I actually began to feel safer when he was around. I did begin to wonder how this was affecting his music career, but I figured he had that well under control.

Ben noticed my return to life, and the sly grin he gave me every time we met said that he knew why. Gladly, he left the subject alone, and not without reason. It seemed that Jane's outburst had been only the tip of the iceberg. She really hated Lestat and made sure I knew it every time we talked. It was a strange feeling, being on his side where I used to agree with most everything Jane had to say. She demanded to know if I loved him and this time, this time I really had to think. I didn't not love him, if that makes any sense…but something had truly changed; he didn't irritate me like he used to, we were actually getting along, borderline civil.

The dreams had come to another halt. Lestat insisted it was all about proximity (with a suggestive smile), but I could tell that was all bullshit (as I swatted at him). Whatever it was, it was working, so I had no complaints.

One night he was late. I had a band interview and the show was slotted to start at eight. I waited and waited, looking nervously out the window wondering whether I should call a cab. Before I knew it the clock read seven forty-five; it was too late to call a cab, it would need at least ten minutes to get here. I was going to have to walk.

I kept thinking Lestat would be there. First when I opened the door, then when I stepped out onto the curb, then when I turned the corner towards Fortune Petite. No matter how hard I willed him to be there he never appeared. I walked quickly, chastising myself for being so dependent. But there was no point in denying it; I was terrified. I jumped at every noise. An alley cat sauntered out in front me from a trash pile and I had to clamp my own hand over my mouth to keep from screaming. I began to feel a little better as more people began to appear around me, but I still continued towards the club in a slow jog. I tried to suppress the thought that it didn't really matter where I was or whom I was with…but I reached the club without incident and heaved a sigh of relief. Strength in numbers - that would be my salvation tonight.

The show began and I forced my mind to fall into my usual concentration. I had situated myself back towards the bar, which was opposite the stage. More people could see me this way, I was sure of it. It was a twenty-one plus show, so most everyone would be drinking. My notes were looking very bare, and the set was already hitting the midway point. Even with all the people around me, I couldn't keep the hand holding my pen from shaking as I wrote. My eyes were spending more time on the door than on the stage.

Suddenly an arm snaked its way around my waist. A scream was caught in my throat as a voice in my head said, "Miss me?"

"God dammit, Lestat, you scared the shit out of me!" I mentally answered. My body betrayed my fear; I was visibly shivering.

Lestat pulled me closer, wrapping both arms around me. The voice was concerned now, "I'm sorry, I was held up! Are you alright?"

I shifted my body closer to his, too scared and thankful that he'd finally showed to be angry. "Yes," I thought, "Where were you?"

"Meeting with the agent, couldn't be avoided. It's ok, I'm here now."

I somehow managed to salvage slash recreate the notes on the show and I finished the interview as quickly as was professionally possible. I just wanted to go home and let my still-fragile psyche recover. At the same time I was infuriated with myself for allowing my fear to paralyze me, especially when there turned out to be nothing to fear at all.

I said this out loud as we walked back to my apartment.

"You have to realize how ridiculous you sound." Lestat responded.

"Wow, thanks for the sympathy!" I snapped.

Lestat gave a self-righteous harrumph, "You know what I meant. After what you went through being afraid is nothing to be ashamed of. If I had known you were still feeling this way I would have cancelled that meeting."

I sighed. "You can't do that. That's the part I hate, I'm not some porcelain doll…"

"Maybe not when it comes to humans; you're dealing with the undead."

"Ugh…"

We had left the limits of Fortune Petite. It was almost two and the streets were empty. It was strange, the air had been warm when we left the club and now I felt so cold.

Lestat acted as before. He looked around with eyes that seemed to tear through building and air alike. His grip on my hand tightened. In my head he said, "Do _exactly_ as I tell you."

We upped the pace, moving down the sidewalk quickly. I looked straight ahead, thinking only of home. Then I couldn't think at all. My skull was splitting in two; the pain made me fall to my knees. I couldn't see…I could only hear laughing – Marcus laughing. And it wasn't in my head.

The pain stopped and I sat on my haunches holding both temples heaving beautiful oxygen into my lungs. Lestat had his arms around me.

"You just can't get it right, can you Lestat?" There was laughter; Marcus wasn't alone. "I'm surprised to see her with you, I guess I didn't try hard enough. I can see I left my mark, though."

Lestat stood up. "What do you want, Marcus?"

I reached out for Lestat's hand and he helped me stand up again. With my vision clearing I could see we were facing three vampires. The same three I never wanted to see again. Marcus stood in front, poised nonchalantly to throw barbs at Lestat. Phillip and Brutus stood behind him like the pathetic lackeys they were. This time I tightened my grip on Lestat's hand.

Marcus looked me up and down, licking his lips, "And how are we feeling these days? Sleeping well?"

Lestat moved to stand in front of me, "Don't even talk to her." His voice was more dangerous than I'd ever heard it, even though I was gripping his hand and pressing my forehead into his back I could feel his bared fangs augmenting the seriousness of that simple statement.

"Touchy, touchy. We're all friends here, aren't we boys?" More laughter.

"What do you want, Marcus?" Lestat said in a still harsher tone.

"I just wanted to check up on the happy couple. Couldn't let you get too happy, now could I?"

"Fuck off."

"Already did, with your little girlfriend there as a matter of fact."

I shut my eyes tighter and pressed my head harder against Lestat's shoulder blade. This couldn't be happening again.

Lestat was livid. "Don't think I won't kill you." He snarled.

"Oh ho! I'm afraid now! C'mon boys, we best be running home!"

There was a flurry of movement. I lost Lestat's hand. Someone grabbed me from behind and pulled. I saw Lestat go for Marcus' throat. Now there was a hand over my mouth and I was still being dragged backwards. I screamed with everything I had, but Lestat was in full combat with Marcus now.

A rough voice in my ear said, "Remember me?"

I started screaming harder, it was Brutus. I thrashed my arms and legs but he had me pinned against him like a rag doll.

Phillip appeared in front of me, "I believe he owes you a shot, love." He smiled wickedly. "Just a bite, my good man, if I may. Then she's all yours."

"My pleasure," came the rough voice beside my ear.

It was happening again…they weren't going to let me go this time…they were going to suck me dry! I screamed again as Phillip took my right hand. The tears started to fall before he even bit down. He looked me straight in the eye as he fed off the blood now pouring out of the flesh of my palm; I was looking right into the face of evil. He let my arm drop and Brutus had it back in check before I even had a chance to think.

"Now it's my turn," Brutus said, "I'll teach you to take a hit at your superior."

In my mind I told him to fuck off, but he didn't even bother to respond. He sank his fangs right into my neck. I struggled; I could still see Lestat fighting with Marcus. But Brutus didn't stop. His grip was suffocating me; my vision was beginning to blur. Phillip stood there staring with a malicious smile painted across his face. "Bye, bye, love," he said.

I cried out to Lestat in my mind, but it was getting more and more difficult to concentrate…I was blacking out.

The last thing I can remember is falling to the ground, shouting all around me, and a warm metallic substance on my tongue.


	25. The Aftermath

Chapter 25: The Aftermath

Strong arms held my limp body. Lucidity came slowly, but as it did it felt…different. Boundless sensations hit me all at once. My head dangled back over the arm that gripped my shoulders. I was awake, but I couldn't move for all the things breaking over me. I could hear music, beer bottles clanking together, people shouting happily, TV sets and radios. For the first time in my life I was drowning in sound.

I opened my eyes slowly. I blinked twice to clear away remaining blurriness. But nothing was blurry. I could see the doors of the Wall, the faces of the people still passing in and out. I looked up at the sky and I could see a billion stars despite the bright city lights. The sight made me gasp, pulling oxygen into still lungs. I started to cough madly trying to catch my breath. The arms lowered me to the ground as my whole body spasmed, all the synapses in my brain firing simultaneously.

"Shh," a voice said, hand rubbing my back as I lurched back and forth, side to side, trying to breathe, "Calm down, it's alright."

Slowly it dawned on me that despite the reactions of my body and my mind, I wasn't suffocating. Hyperventilation slowed to heaving slowed to tiny breaths. I tested the air, expecting another body lock-up and dizziness, but neither came. The hand was still rubbing my back. I turned to face its owner. It was Lestat kneeling beside me on the pavement. I'd turned my head too fast; my vision caught every frame from left to right like a camera, leaving me dizzy and disoriented.

"You'll get used to it." Lestat said as he took my hand and helped me to my feet.

"Used to…" the words caught in my mouth leaving the question unfinished. I ran my tongue over the back of my teeth and gasped again, clamping my hand over my mouth. I was so stunned I staggered a bit; Lestat caught me and set me right again.

I looked down at my hands; my skin was clean. The scars were gone from my arms; they were soft and pale. I reached for the place on my neck where Brutus had bitten me but found nothing, just smooth flesh. Now I looked at Lestat with comprehension. He stared back proudly.

I couldn't breathe again, though now I knew it was unnecessary. On still shaky legs I turned and ran. I didn't even realize just how fast my legs were carrying me until I noticed I'd passed my apartment building four blocks ago. Lestat hadn't followed me, or at least I couldn't see him.

I started to walk back; I moved my feet with deliberation, ensuring that they wouldn't get away from me again. I couldn't wrap my mind around it. It was impossible! I remembered losing consciousness in Brutus' grip; the warm coppery liquid that slid down my throat before I was completely lost in the dark. I clasped my hands behind my head, then around my shoulders, then my waist, completely unsure of what to do with them – with myself. This wasn't right…I wasn't meant to…there was no way. I didn't know what to do.

I came to the stairs of my building and sat down. He would be inside; I knew it. Had he done this to me? Or was it Brutus? What about my friends, my job, my life? Never again would I sit out on the café patio in the sun. Never again would the daylight wake me through the blinds after a hard night's work. How could this have happened?

I felt Lestat swoop down to sit beside me before I saw him. Here it was again, I couldn't look at him. I pulled my knees up to my chest and let my forehead rest there. We just sat like that for who knows how long.

"I had to do it." He said firmly, yet with a hint of apology. "You had lost too much blood; you would have died."

I didn't move. "So it was you and not Brutus?" I spoke into my legs.

"Yes."

"I…I can't _do_ this."

"You'll learn."

I looked up angrily, "What if I don't want to?"

His eyes were soft in the moonlight. "You don't have a choice."

I turned back to my knees. "Lestat, I can't kill anyone. I won't."

"Don't worry about that now," he said, which surprised me.

I stood up to go to my apartment and let my covers make this all go away.

"You can't stay there anymore." Lestat said behind me, "Not during the day anyhow."

I closed my eyes and felt a single tear make its way down my cheek. I caught it halfway; it was thick and ran sluggishly. I looked down at my finger and saw red. Lestat tugged at my elbow. He wiped the rest of the tear away and licked his finger. I was at a loss. He pulled me closer to him and kissed me softly. Then he took my hand and we walked away from my world down the deserted street.


	26. Epilogue

Chapter 26: Epilogue

The warehouse we stayed in was comfortable, if not a little claustrophobic. Another thing I was going to have to get used to. There were no windows, obviously. It wasn't until I experienced it first hand that I realized the magnitude of the new danger the sun presented. I woke up unexpectedly during the day and without thinking decided it would be a good idea to go for a walk. Lestat pulled me back just in time, but a sliver of light caught my arm as he slammed the door. I screamed and watched in horror as my skin began to sizzle and flake into dark ash; but my horror turned to fascination and awe as it immediately began to repair itself back in the darkness. Moments later it was as if nothing had happened at all.

I made for a poor apprentice at best. I refused to feed. I told him again and again, I couldn't do it. It was a difficult time, those first few days. Lestat couldn't understand; he'd been a vampire for so long, he couldn't remember what it was like to be human. We would fight and he would leave me to wander the streets alone while he fed. I no longer had to fear Marcus and his coven…Lestat had taken care of that on his own, and I had no desire to hear the details.

Things turned ever more sour when I began to feel the effects of refusing to eat. My stomach growled and gnawed at itself like it had when I was human; then I began to tire, I could feel the veins clenching under my skin. We fought more. Lestat was worried; I could see it in his eyes. But still, I couldn't do it – I wouldn't. The thought itself was disgusting to me.

I was exhausted, sitting on the floor leaning against our bed, when Lestat handed me a plastic bag. "Think of it as a juice box," he said, kneeling beside me.

I examined the bag warily and looked at him. "Where did you get this?"

"I keep a stash for the road," he answered, "Groupies can become tiring…" he added as a sarcastic afterthought.

I went to hit him but he grabbed my hand, kissed it, and smiled. "Drink."

It wasn't a request; it was a command. I hesitated and he took the bag from me, tearing it open with his teeth. He handed it back and said again with more force, "Drink."

Holding the bag in both hands I could smell the blood; it was fresh and sweet. The hunger that pervaded my body finally overpowered the revulsion in my mind. I put the bag to my lips gingerly and began to drink. A small sip at first, then huge gulps; all my energy was coming back. Lestat pulled at my wrist, stopping me, "Slow down, you don't want to make yourself sick." He finished the last mouthfuls like they were nothing. Then he looked down at me mischievously. "You have a little something on your lip…"

After that I dutifully drank my bag of blood every night, though I still struggled with the guilt of stealing blood from someone that might need it. We packed up my apartment at one in the morning. I wouldn't be needing it anymore. Just before we left I stopped to look around the now empty rooms and my dead heart felt a little heavier.

The next night I called Ben and Jane and asked them to meet me at the café at nine. Lestat offered to come with me, but I told him I'd rather do it alone. I watched across the street as they found a table on the patio and ordered drinks. It killed me inside, how happy they looked. What if they shunned me? Only my body had changed, not my mind! I was still me!

Holding on to these thoughts with everything I had, I slowly crossed the street. Ben saw me first. His mouth gaped, but moved to a forced smile when he saw I was looking. Jane had her back to me. She saw Ben's reaction and turned around. She too let her mouth drop for only a second, but her eyes remained wide. More than anything I wanted to turn and run, but I kept putting one foot in front of another.

I stopped at the fence surrounding the patio, keeping a barrier between us. My mouth refused to smile, it settled in a muddled frown. Again I had to stop myself from fleeing; I gripped the railing and planted my feet. I saw Jane shift away just the tiniest bit, a beautiful reminder of my superhuman vision. No one said anything.

The awkwardness was too much for me, I managed to stammer, "I just came to say goodbye, I didn't want to just disappear…I…I have to go."

I let go of the railing and turned, ready to take off back to the warehouse.

"Evie, wait!"

Both Jane and Ben were standing, drinks forgotten. Ben dropped a few bills on the table and they left the patio.

We walked and I explained. Jane looked like she might cry at any moment. Ben hung on my every word. He was the first to speak when I finished.

"It could be worse, you know. You could be dead."

"I am dead," I said with all the sarcasm that was fitting for that statement.

We both laughed.

"It's not funny!" Jane remonstrated, then with shame in her voice, "Evie, I'm so sorry this happened to you."

"It's alright, I'm going to be fine!" I reached out to comfort her but she shrugged away from my touch.

I recoiled a little. Deep down I suppose I was expecting that, I knew that things would be different. This was too different.

"Well, I should be going, really." I said, trying to end this strange encounter for them as quickly as possible.

"Evie, wait, are we going to be able to see you?" Ben asked, sincerely.

I looked at him thankfully, blinking madly to keep the blood tears from coming. I didn't need to scare them anymore tonight. "Of course! Anytime you want!" I said excitedly. Without thinking I went to hug him; I stopped suddenly, remembering Jane's reaction.

Ben looked at me like I was an idiot and pulled me into a bear hug. He took my face in his hands, "You're still you – remember that!" I nodded, still blinking back tears. "Just no biting ok?"

"No biting; got it." I said laughing.

Jane wouldn't look at me. To the ground she said, "I'm sorry, Evie. I…It's going to take me a while…"

I stopped her. "Take as long as you need, so long as we can still be friends."

"Well of course!" She looked up, blushing.

Later that night Lestat and I sat on the roof of the warehouse, watching the moon rise over the other buildings.

He looked at me, "Do you remember that night I took you to dinner?"

"Do I." I said, rolling my eyes.

"Do you remember what I asked you?"

I sat thinking, but I couldn't bring it back.

He sat there staring at me with that look of intrigue in his face.

"Alright, out with it." I said.

"I asked you what you feared the most."

"So?"

"You don't remember what you said?"

I smiled knowingly, "I said vampires".

"You've become what you most feared." He leaned back, staring up at the sky.

"You know I was lying."

"Of course."

I jabbed him in the ribs. "Well aren't you going to ask me what the truth is?"

"Was."

"What?" I asked, astonished.

"I said was."

"How do you know?"

He looked at me, smiled fangs, and pulled me closer towards him. "I know," he said.

"Alright, then what was it?" I demanded.

"The thing you feared most…" he began, lying back on the warehouse roof, his arm wrapped around my waist so that I went with him, "The thing you feared most…" My head came to rest on his arm and we both stared up into the sky.

"The thing you feared most was growing old."


End file.
